


New Horizons, Old Troubles

by UnproblematicMe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alpha Crowley (Good Omens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Omega Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pirate Crowley (Good Omens), Pirates, all the omegaverse stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnproblematicMe/pseuds/UnproblematicMe
Summary: Aziraphale Fell works as the assistant of a healer in a small town. Despite being an Omega he lives a free and independent life. His status as well as his distant relationship to a noble family do not matter, until one day they do. All of a sudden Aziraphale has to leave his beloved home and friends to maintain his freedom.Anthony Crowley is the Captain of the “Lilith” and the leader of a pirate crew. For a while he has managed to leave the demons of his past behind and accept the injustices he was subjected to. But when rumours arise about a legendary item which might help him to set right what is wrong, the Alpha finds a new goal.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 329
Kudos: 248





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After writing about pirates and writing Omegaverse, I thought "why not both?" And yes, I did so before finishing my other WiP and will drive myself nuts with stereowriting.
> 
> If you decide to follow the story, please keep an eye on the tag lists as there might be additions for future chapters.
> 
> I hope you’ll like chapter 1!

Aziraphale leant against the thick trunk of an old oak to catch his breath. Squinting, he tried to make out his surroundings through the thick fog, wavering between the trees. But he could not see very far. Quite the opposite was true for hearing though. There was constant rustling, distant soughing and occasional cracking. Noises near and far, he did not know who made them. He hoped for harmless animals or the wind.

Even though Aziraphale could not be exactly sure how long he had run, he estimated that it was late afternoon now and nightfall could not be far.

He could not tell if this was a good or a bad thing. Even in daylight there was a hostile feeling to this place, this would hardly change during the night. Then again, maybe he would be able to hide better.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” he whispered into the woods.

The people who were after him were experienced in chasing down anyone on any terrain and at any time of day or night. Finding a dark spot and keeping his head down, would not stop them from finding him. His best call would be to reach Valvice and try to blend in and lay low. Maybe if they lost his trail, they’d assume he left the city and do the same. Maybe he could deceive them.

With a sigh he patted the satchel attached to his belt. At least his knowledge of alchemy and herbalism would help him cover his omega scent and keep his heat in check until he was safe.

After straining his ears one more time, he nodded to himself in determination and ran. As he stumbled over the uneven ground, dry twigs hit his face and thorns scratched along his skin. He could not help but wonder how things could have gone so wrong so fast.

*

The day started off cold but pleasant enough. From a clear blue sky the early spring sun cast its light over the red-tiled roofs above the scenic town of Rinbridge.

Humming an old melody, Aziraphale made his way along the broad main street before he took a turn into the familiar alley which led to Madam Tracy’s home.

He arrived just in time to see the lady of the house open the door and gesture in an early patient. When she spotted Aziraphale, she waved at him and pointed at the back entrance. Smiling, he nodded and took the door on the other side of the building which led directly into the small laboratory behind the treatment room.

Aziraphale took care of today’s orders, mixing the required ingredients and sorting the finished ones by the customers’ names. After an hour Tracy entered and smiled when she saw his work.

“You’re a treasure, Aziraphale,” she said. “Could you make a small portion of Monk’s Berry based ointment for Mr. Kerson’s rash?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll take it to the waiting room in a few minutes.”

“Thanks!”

A song on his lips, Aziraphale stepped to the shelf, found the Monk’s Berries in their rightful spot and with expertise produced what was requested. After cleaning up, he carried the little jar into the waiting area. Currently only three people were here: Newton Pulsifer, a young aspiring lawyer and injury magnet, Calen Derkens, a hotheaded alpha who yet again sported a black eye - and Solon Kerson who suffered from a nasty rash.

With a grateful smile Kerson took the ointment.

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” he said. “Accursed Devil’s Nettle. Fell right into it.”

“That’s really bad luck,” Aziraphale said sympathetically. “I assume Madame Tracy told you how much…”

Aziraphale was interrupted by the main door being pushed open in such a forceful manner that it slammed against the wall with a loud thud. At the sudden noise everybody whipped their heads towards the entrance and Madame Tracy came running from the treatment room.

Two men in simple but elegant grey attire stepped in. As far as Aziraphale could tell they must be high paid servants, but from their self-important expressions they might as well think of themselves as kings. One of them held the door open, the other cast a suspicious look around the reception area before nodding at someone outside.

Seconds later a tall handsome man with dark brown hair and eyes of a rare purple entered. His clothes were those of a rich man of noble blood and his posture as well as his scent gave him away as an Alpha at once. He carried a sword at his belt and made the impression that he knew how to use it.

Newton and Calen got up from their seats, their Alpha instincts stirred by the arrival of the unfamiliar specimen of their kind.

Just as his servant before, the stranger let his eyes wander. For a moment his gaze hefted on Tracy, but soon his head swung towards Aziraphale.

“I am Gabriel Archer of Wingborough,” he said in a strong and confident voice. “You’re Aziraphale Fell, I assume?”

“Um,” Aziraphale said, exchanging nervous looks with Madame Tracy. “Why?”

“Because I was told I’d find him here and you’re the only male omega here,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly while making a confused face as if Aziraphale had asked for the colour of the sky.

“Ah yes,” Aziraphale said. “What I mean is…”

The man stepped closer. Without hesitation he invaded Aziraphale’s space. For a moment the unexpected proximity of a powerful Alpha and the heavy scent knocked the air out of Aziraphale’s lungs. Forgetting what he wanted to say, he locked eyes with the intimidating stranger.

“You’re nice enough to look at, a bit chubbier than I expected, but it suits you. Soft. I like it,” Gabriel said. “Yes, that’ll do. Anything you insist on taking with you? Give me your address and my men will get your belongings.”

Having adjusted to the new Alpha‘s presence, Aziraphale found his voice and confidence again. His chin straight and his nose up in defiance, he narrowed his eyes at Gabriel Archer.

“With all due respect, dear sir,” he said, as cold and haughty as he could muster. “I think perhaps you’ve got the wrong omega since I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Gabriel furrowed his brows, turned to his lackeys who only returned his befuddled look.

“You are Aziraphale Fell, right?” he asked. “Hasn’t your family informed you?”

“My parents are long dead, sir,” Aziraphale said, his tone pained.

“What? No! The Celestres!”

Aziraphale swallowed. Celestres. A noble house, well-known in the land and – as few knew – distantly related to him. Their connection so far had been of mutual disinterest and Aziraphale really preferred it that way.

“I’m afraid, I haven’t had any contact with that… branch of my family,” he said.

Gabriel groaned.

“Of course,” he said, annoyed. “I should have known by now that organization is not their strong suit.”

With a sigh he lifted his right hand and without sparing his servants a glance wiggled his fingers at them. Immediately one of them rushed outside and came back a few moments later with some papers in his grip. Quickly he gave them to Gabriel who took them without a word.

“20 years ago, the conflict regarding the rights to Scythesrock was solved by House Wingborough renouncing and leaving the reign over the province in question to House Celestres,” Gabriel said in a bored voice. “In return House Celestres pledged to provide suitable spouses of Omega status of their lineage to San Dalfon of Wingborough, Michael Holy of Wingborough and Gabriel Archer of Wingborough – that is me – upon request, providing the mentioned reached Alpha maturity.”

“I don’t see…” Aziraphale tried to get a word in.

“Well, I requested,” Gabriel spoke over him. “But while my dear cousins were married to Omegas of your family’s inner circle, they apparently ran out of Omegas – at least in this generation. And since I neither will marry a child nor someone nearing the end of fertility…”

A wave of nausea gripped Aziraphale and threatened to overwhelm him when it began to dawn on him what this man was saying. Unwilling to accept the unacceptable, Aziraphale wildly shook his head.

“I… I have never even met one of the Celestres,” he said, full of desperation. “I have nothing to do with them.”

“Well, the law disagrees,” Gabriel said, handing Aziraphale a very official appearing document. “The family named you as the Omega they give to me and official sides verified your affiliation to the Celestres and with it your commitment to the contract.”

Aziraphale read the paper. By no means was he a simpleton and yet the words went over his head, the lines blurred before his eyes. The little parts he did understand seemed to support what Gabriel said, but it could not be. It must not.

His legs threatened to give out and he almost lost his balance. A warm hand on his back steadied him. Newton Pulsifer stepped beside him and took the document from his shaking hands.

Newt positioned himself between Gabriel and Aziraphale, holding his ground despite being unarmed and several inches shorter than Gabriel.

“I won’t let you step in here and intimidate people with important looking papers,” he chided. “You can’t just show up and expect a stranger to marry you on the behest of a family he never met.”

“I can,” Gabriel said, his eyes and voice darkening. “This Omega” he pointed at Aziraphale, “is mine and he’ll come with me.”

“We’ll see,” Newt said, harsh and cold which was rather atypical for him.

He turned to give Aziraphale an encouraging smile before starting to read the document.

Aziraphale’s heart sank as he witnessed how, with every word Newt read, the young lawyer's face lost more colour. When he had finished, Newt lifted his head and cast Aziraphale a defeated look.

“You see now?” Gabriel said with a smug smirk. “All waterproof and legal.”

Now, Calen appeared next to Newt.

“What _I_ see,” he said, “is that Aziraphale doesn’t want to go with you. So he won’t.”

“Well, he has to,” Gabriel said, eerily polite. “So if you would step aside now…”

“No, _you_ step _out_ side,” Calen said.

“Agreed.” Newt took a challenging Alpha posture that Aziraphale had never seen before on the soft spoken and well mannered young man.

“I agree, too,” Mr. Kerson said, enforcing the men standing between Aziraphale and Gabriel.

“And so do I!” Tracy said before joining them.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Gabriel contemplated the group. Obviously he was the only armed person, but he was also the only alpha on his side. Since his servants did not look like fighters, it would be him against two alphas, a beta and two omegas, one of which he wanted unharmed. Apparently he did not wish to take this chance.

He pointed at the townspeople who shielded Aziraphale from him.

“This is not over!” he announced, seething. Then he snapped his fingers, signalling his mortified servants that he wanted to leave.

One rushed to the door holding it open for Gabriel, the other followed when he was outside.

It took Aziraphale a few seconds to process what had just occurred. How could that be? One second he was a free man, and in the next his whole life was to be given over to this horrible Alpha? Cold sweat formed on Aziraphale’s skin and his body trembled as he watched his world crumble before his mind’s eye.

“They’ll be back with muscle,” Calen said, looking out of the window after Gabriel and his entourage.

“Yes, they will,” Tracy said wistfully and took hold of Aziraphale’s sleeve.

She dragged him to the laboratory where she in haste grabbed a bag and filled it with several dried herbs, jars, crucibles and vials.

“Here,” she said as she pressed the satchel into his hands. “It’s all you need to suppress heats and hide scents. And some material for healing products. Oh, you’ll need some money!”

“What…” Aziraphale asked when Tracy gave him her leather pouch.

With tears in her eyes Tracy cupped his cheek.

“You’ll have to run, sweetheart,” she said, her lips wobbling. “Unless you want to be this man’s spouse. Let an old Omega tell you something about Alphas: if they think you are theirs, they will not accept a no. And this specific one even has the law on his side.”

“But where can I go?”

“North,” Tracy said. “Get to Valvice. It’s a free city. Their laws are different. An Omega cannot be forced to marry there. But still be careful. The city is shady and dangerous. The guards are too busy to protect an unbounded Omega from being kidnapped or forcefully marked.”

Now Aziraphale could not help crying and neither could Tracy. She kissed his cheek and pushed him towards the door, a pained expression on her face.

Aziraphale’s heart screamed at the rushed goodbye from the woman who he had known for years, who was a mentor, a friend and a second mother to him. But he knew that she was right. It would not take long for Gabriel to return with armed support. Aziraphale had to run away lest he would be _dragged_ away.

At least this way, _he_ decided on his destination.

*

Aziraphale swallowed as he walked the streets of Valvice. This was nothing like his hometown. There was no greeting each other when two people walked past each other. No friendly smile or wave. Even to him, in his dirty and ripped clothes, with bloody scratches on his skin, nobody paid attention, nobody asked if he was alright.

The sun was setting and eerie red light streamed through the narrow streets and over the grey stone buildings. The day came to an end, the street merchants packed up their goods, dock workers waved each other goodbye, in the shops the lights went out and went on in the taverns and shadier buildings.

Unsure what to do, Aziraphale began wringing his hands. He needed to save his money and could not afford a fancy abode. But this part of town did not seem to offer those anyway.

He ducked into a side alley, opened his satchel and renewed his scent blocker. It would not do to walk into a sleazy tavern or inn and be recognized as an unbounded omega.

After a deep breath he left his hiding spot and went for the next best place that appeared to offer rooms for the night.

The huge city and the many people in it made Aziraphale feel insignificant and small. While he was not used to it and hated it, he knew that it was exactly what he needed. Being invisible was his best bet at the moment.

*

Captain Anthony Crowley stared at the even waves, rolling underneath his ship, like he had done a hundred if not a thousand times by now. He watched the dying sun’s light break in the moving waters, random red patterns appearing and vanishing. The comforting murmurs of a peaceful sea had a calming effect on him.

He needed that now.

Yes, the journey had been successful and he was looking forward to a few days in the lively city of Valvice. But this time nostalgia travelled with him.

A few of his older crew members had decided to step down. In all cases it was a well-deserved retirement. But to Crowley his crew was his family and seeing some of them go with the prospect of never meeting again or only on rare occasions, pained him. In addition his Alpha instincts screamed at the thought of not being there to protect the people he cared about.

Nevertheless he respected their wishes.

Since they were his friends, he had made sure they had enough money to start a new life on shore. Most pirates planned on living and dying on a ship, but Crowley would not stand in the way of those who did not.

Well, he would hire new men or women to replace them. In Valvice it was easy to find someone looking for work. The cook would be the hardest to replace.

Pondering about his crew, his thoughts wandered to Agnes. Good thing, she stayed. There was no replacing her. Not yet. Anathema was talented, but she had much to learn before she could take her aunt’s place on Crowley’s ship.

Rescuing Agnes from that witch burning years ago, was the best decision he and his crew had ever made. Back then, they had thought they’d rescued an innocent nice lady from a mob. And while Agnes _was_ a nice lady, she was not innocent. At least when it came to the accusations of witchcraft.

It just worked. Not only did Crowley and Agnes get along perfectly, Agnes’ magic was also extremely valuable. It helped a lot in cases of injury and a little in battle, but tremendously afterwards. On the rare occasions they were arrested while onshore, suddenly the witnesses could not remember their attackers’ faces and Crowley and his crew walked free.

And without Agnes he could not have translated the ancient scroll he found and might never have learned of the artefact.

It was a two-sided blade of course. On the one hand, he had made peace with his past and accepted that justice would not be served in his case, a peace that now was disturbed. On the other hand, he could not let the chance to set things right slide.

The gruff voice of his navigator ripped Crowley out of his thoughts.

“Captain!” the old Alpha called over. “The wind is good, but no storm in sight. We should be safely in Valvice by noon tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Shadwell,” Crowley answered and grinned, “I hope _you_ ’re not planning on leaving us?”

“Nay, Captain,” Shadwell said. “I shall croak on yer deck one day.”

“Good man!”

“Aye. And don’ ye forget.”

Laughing, Crowley turned back to observing the glistening waters that carried the “Lilith” towards a well-earned shore leave.

After a few days’ rest, Crowley - with the help of his crew - would search and find what he needed to fight the demons of his past.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally on shore! Eagerly the crew of the “Lilith” rushed into “The High Tide Pub”. The sticky air in the taproom stood in stark contrast to the fresh breeze of spring, rushing through the narrow streets of Valvice.

But still there was no place that Crowley would rather be now. Music, laughter and wine in a shady inn in an even shadier town was exactly the kind of mindless entertainment they needed. Something to give a sweeter note to the nostalgic occasion.

“Hey, folks,” he called into the tavern, silencing the people for a moment. “My mates and I need a large table.”

One look at Crowley and his crew had the guests in the room reorganize their seating.

The crew of the “Lilith”, especially their captain, was well known. They were the famous pirates who, even though they never killed their victims, never could be charged for their deeds. Nobody knew why, but the crews of the robbed ships never recalled who attacked them, they rarely recalled being attacked at all. Nevertheless, it was an open secret that this crew was responsible for most pirate attacks in these waters and nobody wanted to be in their bad books.

So two of the biggest tables were free soon and the innkeeper hurried to push them together, making enough room for Crowley and his friends.

“Thanks, good people,” Crowley said as loud as he could. “Drink a wine or beer on my pocket to my good and loyal men who leave my crew today.”

The crowd cheered. Of course they did. Free alcohol was always welcome in a place like that. Crowley grinned as he watched them hurry to the counter, closely packed to each other, waving empty mugs at the innkeeper.

For a few hours the crew drank, laughed and sang old melodies off tune. Memories were shared, stories told a thousand times were told again. Especially those who parted with the crew revelled in the familiar tales. Just a bit longer they allowed themselves to hide in the past from an uncertain future.

When midnight had passed, Beez went to see her Omega who lived in the city. Ligur and Hastur went to find one for the night. Some of the Betas of the crew began casting lingering glances around to find some relief after the long journey.

While he waved at the maid to refill his mug, Crowley thought that maybe he should do the same. Take the edge off at the beginning of his shore-leave so he could relax the remaining days fully.

As if on cue, Crowley felt a cool breeze as the tavern door opened and an Omega entered. He was a pretty little thing with curly blond hair and a curvy body, dressed in simple but flattering light-beige linen. Timidly the man let his eyes wander over the crowd before making his way through the taproom.

Crowley was about to lean back with his chair to block the stranger’s path. But when the man got closer, Crowley raised his brows in surprise. Not an Omega. Confused, he let the man pass by. It happened now and again that on first sight a Beta who was a bit shorter and softer was mistaken for an Omega. But Crowley had never…

Oh! Watching after the man, Crowley lost the thought. Omega, Beta or Alpha, no matter – this arse was to die for. Crowley all but jumped from his chair, caught up with the man and grabbed his arm.

The blond curls flew as the stranger whipped around and Crowley put on a charming smile. But his suave and seductive greeting died in his throat. He was met with a pair of beautiful eyes, a dance of blue and green like in the waves of the sea, locking with his own – surprised, frightened even.

At once Crowley let go off him.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” Crowley said. 

“No, it’s quite alright. I had a long day. I’m a bit jumpy.” The man spoke with a soft and sweet voice.

“Ah.”

“Yes, that’s why I should go rest now. Good night, sir.”

With that the stranger turned his beautiful behind to Crowley and hurried to the stairs next to the counter which led to the bedrooms.

When Crowley returned to his remaining comrades, they grinned at him.

“What happened there, Captain?” Shadwell teased. “Cat got yer silvertongue?”

“Oi! Making fun of my silvertongue, might lead to my goldcoins no longer paying your sorry arse, mate.”

“Ha! Ye wouldn’ find yer way out of the port without me, laddie!”

“If you keep on drinking, _you_ won’t find your way out of the tavern!”

“Pfff,” Shadwell made. “Like I would want out of here.”

*

The way through the drunken crowd made Aziraphale anxious. So he felt like his heart would stop when his elbow was grabbed by a strong warm hand.

Within the fracture of a second different horror scenarios rushed through his mind. One of his pursuers had seen and recognized him and would drag him to Gabriel. Or his alchemistic scent blockers had stopped working and this was just the first of the Alphas in the tavern to descend on him.

Shocked, Aziraphale drove around and froze. Captivating golden eyes lay on him, looking at him out of a handsome face with sharp features and sun-kissed bronze skin. Long red hair fell on the shoulders of a lean and tall Alpha. He was dressed in elegant yet practical dark clothes which smelled of the sea – but not unpleasantly so.

The man gave Aziraphale an alluring smile. It died on his lips though when he saw Aziraphale’s terrified expression.

Without hesitation he apologized, “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

His strong scent reached Aziraphale’s nose. The Omega’s instincts – that were running wild in this dangerous labyrinth of a city – begged him to throw himself into the arms of the powerful Alpha for protection. But glancing around, Aziraphale saw that no other Alpha in the tavern took note of him. And this one, too, did not act like he recognized Aziraphale as an Omega. He was safe.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Aziraphale said before the pause would get awkward. “I had a long day. I’m a bit jumpy.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, that’s why I should go rest now. Good night, sir.” With reluctance Aziraphale took his eyes off the striking stranger and rushed to his bedroom.

He slipped in and fell backwards against the door. Taking deep breaths, he reminded himself that everything was fine. Just a random man, no headhunter, no spy, none of Gabriel’s sellswords.

When he had calmed down, Aziraphale locked the door, went to the small night table and lit the candle on it. Most of the sparse bedroom still lay in darkness, but the flickering light was enough to illuminate the simple – but thankfully clean – bed.

Aziraphale spread his possessions out on the white sheets. The inn was not half as bad as its location, its name or its prices had him worry at first, but still he would have to look for a more permanent abode soon. And maybe for work. He had seen a small pharmacy near the docks when he had been exploring today. Maybe they had use for him?

Carefully he sorted his belongings. To his pleasant surprise he had found some decent and yet affordable pieces of clothing in Valvice. They replaced the ones he’d had to leave behind and the set that had been ripped on his run through the woods.

Most important of course were the herbs and potions. Not only could he hide his status as an Omega with them, he also had no idea which kind of sicknesses he might catch in this place. He rose a brow at the dried “Violet Love Roots” Tracy had thrown into the bag, amongst other things. The only purpose of this plant he knew of was contraception.

He chuckled and shook his head. Male Omegas only could get pregnant during their heats. And while his own was due, he was planning on suppressing it. But probably it could not hurt to be prepared for everything.

After securing the breakable crucibles and vials in a separate piece of linen, he put all his possessions in his bag and stored it under his bed. He would rest for a few days and then start building a life here. Here, far away from his friends and his hometown, surrounded by strangers who did not care about him.

*

Several ships had docked this morning and the streets leading along the piers were packed with people. Aziraphale moved between the them to find the pharmacy again. He clutched his bag, pressing it tight against his body as not to lose it or have it stolen in the crowd.

After a while he spotted the pharmacy close to the harbour masters office. But his smile of relief froze on his face when his eyes fell on the entrance of the shop.

A tall broad-shouldered man with dark hair blocked the door while talking to a group of armed men. They scanned the area with observant eyes and had Aziraphale not ducked behind a large man in Nordic attire, they would have spotted him. When the mercenaries turned back to Gabriel, Aziraphale scurried over the pier to squat down behind a stack of crates.

Peeking out of his hiding spot, he saw how the men gestured around and talked. They must have tracked him down to the city and, knowing that he had worked for a healer, had assumed he would look for similar work here. Not wrong, unfortunately.

Panic rose in Aziraphale as the men ended whatever conversation they had, nodded at each other and split up. Two of them came in Aziraphale’s direction.

He did not have much time. So when a couple of workers passed him, he took this slim chance. Aziraphale bolted out of his hiding place and mingled with the group. Luckily, they were all quite tall. Walking between them, he dared looking over his shoulder. The two mercenaries had not seen him, but still they were too close for comfort.

The men who unknowingly protected Aziraphale, one after another went on their own way. Bit by bit the group dispersed. The mercenaries, however, were stubbornly walking along the street.

Aziraphale cursed inwardly. Focused on keeping himself invisible, he had not noticed how far he had walked on the landing docks. There was nowhere to go now, except for the way back, the water and the ships.

Ships! Maybe he could hide there?

But letting his eyes wander, he saw that only a few of them had the gangway open. At those who had, grim looking sailors made sure that people knew how unwelcome they were.

Aziraphale was just about to give up and try his luck with running when he noticed a ship at the far end of the docks. The landing stage was open and some people walked up without the crew stopping them.

Out of options, Aziraphale hurried over and stepped on the wooden walkway like the others. Nearby, two Alphas were leaning against a wine barrel and had a smoke. They raised their brows in surprise. But they did not say anything, let alone ask him to leave.

On deck Aziraphale found that the crew was busy. People were carrying crates, barrels and burlap bags, scrubbing the planks or shouting commands Aziraphale did not understand. There was no way Aziraphale could slip under deck and hide for a few hours without anyone noticing.

So Aziraphale hesitantly joined the men and women who had walked up the gangway with him. From the pieces of conversation he overheard they were looking for work. Apparently this was the “Lilith” and the Captain was hiring.

Observing his surroundings, Aziraphale still waited for an opportunity to sneak into the ship’s hold. When his eyes fell on the passage to the lower decks, his breath hitched.

From down below emerged another Alpha. Immediately Aziraphale recognized the man he had met in the inn a few nights ago. His dark-grey sleeved shirt and the black linen trousers flattered his lean body just as the fiery red hair his angular face. He strutted over the deck with fast, determined steps, the seams of his open black leather coat flying behind him like a fallen angel’s wings.

Subtly Aziraphale shuffled a few steps back, hoping the large man to his right would hide him from the Alpha’s gaze.

The Alpha in question came to a halt in front of the group and addressed them.

“Alright,” he spoke. “I’m Captain Anthony Crowley. Just ‘Crowley’ is fine as long as you don’t forget that I’m the Captain.”

Taking in Crowley in his full natural authority, Aziraphale was sure it was impossible to forget that he was in charge here.

“You’re all here which means you heard we’re hiring,” Crowley continued. “So you all know who we are… what we are.”

Aziraphale looked at his fellow applicants, confused, as he saw them all grinning and nodding.

“But!” Crowley pointed at them and narrowed his eyes. “Pirates or not – there are rules!”

Aziraphale swallowed. Pirates? What had he gotten himself into? Maybe he should just wait for a good moment to leave without drawing attention. But then he remembered what waited for him at the piers. Perhaps this was just what he needed: to sail away for a few weeks or months. Nobody would look for him on a pirate ship.

“… and while I’m willing to listen to your ideas, in the end I decide!” Crowley was still listing rules. “Further, we want our target’s money, not their blood or lives. If I see you using unnecessary violence, if I see you being cruel without reason, you’re out. And if you even so much as think of raping anyone, you’re shark food. Have I made myself clear?”

The aspiring crew members nodded and Aziraphale hurried to do the same.

“Good!” Crowley said, satisfied. “Last rule – last but in no way least: No omegas on my ship. If you find a cute one during shore leave, good for you. Fuck them in an inn room, at their home, or in the streets for all I care. But do NOT bring them here. I don’t need them driving my Alpha crew members crazy with their scents and antics.”

Antics? Aziraphale had to bite his lips so as not to protest. An Alpha complaining about antics - this was mocking gold. But unfortunately this was not the time for this. Or the audience. Because apparently he was the only one who took offense at the Captain’s words. The other applicants grinned and chuckled or nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” Crowley said and pointed at a short dark haired woman who approached him. “This is Beez, my first mate. Tell her what you think you can do and she’ll see if it’s true.”

The group of men around Aziraphale was in motion at once, but Aziraphale hesitated. He had never worked on a ship. Even if he was willing to lie about having a certain skill, he would not know which skill to make up.

“Hey, I remember you.” The captain’s eyes locked with Aziraphale’s before wandering up and down his body in a scrutinizing manner. “You don’t look like you’re used to life at sea or carrying anything heavier than that bag on your shoulder.”

Aziraphale swallowed as the handsome pirate came closer to him. Once more he was grateful for the herbs hiding his scent and his well-trained self-control, keeping his instincts in check. Without the latter the proximity of the attractive Alpha would be a problem. It would not do to bare his throat and beg the captain to help him through the upcoming heat.

“Care to answer?” Crowley asked impatiently. “Look, I’m sure you’re great at standing around, looking pretty, but I need people to help me run a ship and you…”

“Kitchen,” Aziraphale hurried to say. “I… I mean galley, sir… captain. I heard you need a new cook.”

It was not true of course. Aziraphale had heard nothing, but maybe he was lucky. He was indeed very good at preparing tasty meals at sensible cost.

“You want a kitchen job?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“No, I brought it up to make smalltalk,” he said before he could stop the words.

Crowley raised a brow and Aziraphale gulped. Despite the suppressants, an approaching heat always made him cranky. He really needed to watch his tongue. Sarcasm would not help him here.

To his surprise the captain laughed. He stepped even closer and rested his amber-coloured eyes on Aziraphale’s face.

“What’s your name?”

“Aziraphale Fe… Falcon, sir.”

“At least you’re brave,” Crowley said. “Not many people would get sassy with me.”

“Yes, brave and good at cooking,” Aziraphale said with a nervous smile. “Perfect for your crew, right?”

With an unreadable expression Crowley studied Aziraphale.

“Yes, nobody else came for the kitchen job,” he said absentmindedly. “Just one more thing.”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s chin and used his hold to tilt Aziraphale’s head and bare his throat. Eyes wide and knees buckling, Aziraphale gasped as Crowley bent down until his nose almost touched Aziraphale’s neck. Crowley’s hot breath rushed over the exposed skin and Aziraphale barely held back a whimper. He felt how Crowley sniffed at him for a few seconds before letting go.

“Hmm, fascinating. I could have sworn…” Crowley began but then shook his head. “No matter. As I said, you’re the only one so far, wanting this specific job. So I guess you’re making dinner tonight. If nobody gets sick from it, you’re hired.”

“Impressive standards,” said Aziraphale, again tongue faster than mind.

Crowley chuckled darkly.

“See that you meet them, blondie,” he said. “Would be a shame if I had to punish you.”

He waved at a crew member and pointed at Aziraphale.

“Show him the galley, Erik,” he said.

Then he walked away, leaving Aziraphale glad that cooking was yet another skill Tracy had taught him.

Quickly Aziraphale banished the thoughts of home from his mind so he could follow the young man who led him to the ship’s kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading Chapter 2! <3  
> Share your thoughts in the comments and/or leave me a kudos!


	3. Chapter 3

Looking around the kitchen, Aziraphale smiled. This would not be so bad. For a part of a pirate ship it was pretty cosy. It was a bit bigger than the cooking place he had in his old home. However, the dark wooden furniture, barrels with food supplies and the large oven filled the room so he felt wrapped in and safe. A small but comfortable looking bed stood in a corner, next to it a sailor’s box for his belongings.

Large metal pots were placed on sturdy shelves and as he opened one of the cupboards, the amount of tin bowls and plates gave him an idea of how many people he would have to cook for. But to be sure, he asked the young man, Adam, who had brought him here.

“We were around 80 before some retired,” Adam said. “7 left, but only two new guys were hired. Well, and you, maybe.”

“And how long until we will be able to restock?”

“Captain says a month,” Adam answered. “We’re sailing to Mernoc. After that, he says, he doesn’t know yet how long it will take.”

“Mernoc has what we need for the galley?”

“Oh yes! Wide range of goods. The merchants are bloodsuckers, but they are scared of us so they won’t try to rip us off.“

“Thanks, dear,” Aziraphale said. “I’d better start making dinner then.”

“Right,” Adam nodded, gave Aziraphale a friendly grin and left him to his work.

Aziraphale was good at economizing, so it did not take him long to calculate how much of his supplies he would be able to use daily. Based on that he sorted the food by durability – although the former cook had already done a pretty good job with that.

With expert hands Aziraphale started the fire in the oven and comforting warmth spread quickly in the small room.

While Aziraphale usually cooked only for himself or a few friends, he was no stranger to preparing meals for large groups of people. In Rinbridge he had often taken care of the food at village festivals. It had started off with him helping out, but soon he had been asked to take charge.

Cutting vegetables, he tried hard not to cry at those memories. It was important to focus now. This was something he was good at, something he could do. A great chance to get away far from Gabriel and his minions should not be wasted.

While he was working, the door opened, letting a short cool breeze into the warm kitchen. He lifted his head and smiled at the dark-haired woman who stuck her head in.

“Hello,” he greeted.

“Hello,” she said, slipping into the kitchen.

She seemed to be a bit younger than Aziraphale, was very pretty and dressed in clothes vastly different from the rest of the crew. Her shape was rather lithe, she wore large glasses and her long ebony hair fell down her back in well-groomed locks. She did not look like a pirate. At least not in Aziraphale’s books.

“Can I help you, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Her dark eyes twinkled when she answered with a laugh.

“Funny,” she said. “I came here to ask you that.” She looked around and took in his progress. “But it seems you have everything under control.”

“Admittedly, I came into a very well-organized kitchen,” Aziraphale said. “Your old cook kept everything in place.”

“Pfff,” she snorted. “Let me tell you something about Pete,” she said as she sank into a chair next to Aziraphale, a conspiratory expression on the soft features of her face. “He was a great cook, we all loved him – but he was a mess. Without Agnes this whole kitchen would have lain in chaos.”

“Agnes?”

“She is my aunt, she is… sort of an advisor for Crowley. Oh, how rude of me… I’m Anathema by the way.”

Aziraphale took the hand she offered.

“Aziraphale,” he said.

“So I heard,” Anathema said with a weird smile on her face. “Anyway, my aunt and I sometimes used the oven for our… erm… work. When it was not needed of course. Could we still…?”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale said. “My goal is to plan meals ahead at least a week. So I will know early how long and how much I will need the oven on which day. We can make a schedule.”

Her eyes lit up.

“This would be great!” she said. “With Pete we always had to be very spontaneous.”

“What do you need it for? The oven I mean.”

“Erm, my aunt and I are… we are herbalists and we use our knowledge to cook up some medical supplies."

“Oh! How wonderful!” Aziraphale beamed. “I myself…” he stopped himself. He should not give away too much about his former life. “… am a great admirer of the healing class and all crafts that support it.”

Anathema returned his smile and squeezed his hands.

“Agnes told me, I would like you,” she said. “And she was right.”

“Thanks, dear,” Aziraphale said. “But…”

“I’ll leave you to your work,” Anathema said.

She was out of the door before Aziraphale could ask her how her aunt could even know about him.

*

There was a knock on Crowley’s cabin door. Ripped out of his thoughts, he looked up from the parchment he was studying. A look out of the porthole showed him a darkened sky with only a small sliver of red at the horizon in the west. He must have forgotten the time.

“Come in,” he called out to whoever was at the door.

With the familiar creak it opened to reveal the new cook. Well, maybe he would be the new cook, depending on the food this evening. But Crowley could not imagine it to be so bad that he would opt to wait any longer to put to sea.

“Aziraphale,” he greeted. “What brings you here?”

“Dinner,” Aziraphale answered.

“Oh no, I won’t eat here, I usually eat with the crew.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips.

“So I heard,” he said with an adorably indignant expression. “The crew refuses to eat without you and you – despite saying you wanted dinner when the evening bell rings – aren’t there.”

Crowley could not help smirking in amusement as the cute little thing scolded him.

“Must have missed the evening bells,” Crowley said, stepping closer to Aziraphale.

“Well, then it apparently was a very poor choice of signal,” Aziraphale said, unfazed. “I assume you are coming now? Before the food gets cold?”

Arms crossed over his soft stomach, Aziraphale expectantly watched Crowley with furrowed brows. There was a challenge in his posture and Crowley was willing to take it.

“Well, hopefully you’re able to make food that is still edible when cold.” he says. “This is a pirate ship. A lot of things can happen to delay dinner.”

“Probably,” Aziraphale says. “So I think at least in a safe haven – where no storm is wrecking the ship and no Kraken tries to eat the crew – your hard working comrades deserve a warm meal, don’t you think?”

Crowley opened his mouth for a rejoinder, but closed it again. Aziraphale had a point here. Out at sea comfort was lacking, but his loyal crew always endured it without complaining. As their Captain he should not make them wait for their dinner at their last day onshore.

“Very well,” Crowley gave Aziraphale a charming smile and enjoyed the pink blush it elicited on the round cheeks. “Lead the way, blondie.”

“I have a name, you know?” Aziraphale said as he went through the door with Crowley on his heels.

“Yes, a very long one,” Crowley said.

“Well, I don’t like ‘blondie’.” Aziraphale huffed.

“Fine, I’ll think of something else.”

“You do that.”

*

During dinner Aziraphale nervously watched the crew around him. Relieved he saw many faces light up at the first bite. Some complimented the food, others remained silent, but appreciative noises indicated that they rather liked their meal.

The Captain, however, did not speak a word and his expression gave nothing away either. The fact that he finished his plate’s content was probably a good sign. But when everybody stood and went for one last evening in the city, Crowley disappeared as well.

Sighing, Aziraphale returned to the kitchen to clean-up. Either he had to leave it or sleep there tonight. A mess would not do. Shortly before he reached his destination, a gruff voice called after him.

The two Alpha crew members he had seen at the gangway came up to him. By now he had learnt their names and heard that Crowley held them in high regard.

Ligur was a broad-shouldered man with flawless ebony skin and short black hair. He did not talk much, but if he did, he spoke in a deep rich voice that wrapped around the listener like a warm blanket.

Hastur, while not as muscular as Ligur, still was an impressive appearance. With his tall build, ragged looks and grumpy behaviour the ash-blonde man did not invoke the wish to get on his bad side. His inner wrists spoke of a naturally pale complexion, but the sun over the sea had given a sandy note to his skin and reddened his cheeks.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, uncertain.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Hastur said. “Crowley will hire you. He liked what you made.”

“We did, too,” Ligur added.

“Oh, that is kind of you to say, my dears,” Aziraphale said. “But a wordless leave is not exactly what I’d take for a compliment.”

Both pirates rose a brow and grinned – Aziraphale was not sure if at the term of endearment or his general way of wording.

“Might want to get back at you for giving him lip,” Hastur smirked. “But had he hated it, he would have kicked you off board right away.”

“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes. “Revenge of the captain’s ego.”

Hastur and Ligur laughed and patted his shoulders – painfully so.

“Yeah, you could say that, sweetheart,” Hastur said. “So unpack your stuff. I’d fight the Captain if he was stupid enough to let you go. That was delicious.”

Aziraphale blushed at the honest praise and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and welcome aboard the ‘Lilith’.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Ligur agreed.

The two walked away, leaving Aziraphale feeling a bit lighter.

After he had brought the kitchen in order, the weight of this eventful day came crashing down on him. Someone, maybe Anathema, had put fresh linen on the small bed, making it look very inviting.

 _Just for a moment_ , he thought as he lay down on the mattress.

*

Low footsteps sounded nearby and invaded the haze Aziraphale was in. It took him a while to process and when finally his eyes snapped open, he let out a short screech.

A handsome face framed by red hair was only inches away from him, golden eyes glinting in amusement. Crowley had squatted down next to the bed and grinned at him.

“Optimistic, are we?” he said. “Already occupying the cook’s bed.”

Aziraphale scrambled up into a sitting position and tried to appear relaxed.

“I was told to take not being rejected as being hired.”

“Not wrong,” Crowley said, getting up. “It was good. Better than expected. You’re a real Godsend so shortly after Pete left.” He grinned as he made his way to the door. “An angel for my ship.”

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Well, I do believe this might be exaggerated,” he said. “But I’m glad I could satisfy you… with the food!”

Crowley turned back one more time, now wearing an even wider smirk on his face.

“Oh, I was very satisfied… with the food,” he said with a wink. “I’ll leave you to rest now. Good night… angel.”

“G…Good night.” Flustered, Aziraphale watched the door fall shut and it took him a while before he could sleep again.

*

Early the next morning the “Lilith” hit the sea. While the crew was busy manoeuvring the ship, Aziraphale stood at the stern – he had learnt the term from Adam – and watched the distance to the port grow. A friendly but strong wind carried the ship quickly over the waves and soon the houses and towers of the city appeared as tiny children’s toys at the horizon.

Aziraphale felt no remorse as he saw Valvice become smaller and smaller. After all, he had only been there for a few days. And while it was not as bad as the first impression had him fear, he hardly got attached.

“Hey!” The friendly voice of Anathema Device made him turn his head.

“Hello, dear,” he said. “The soup is done and it will be enough to keep the pot close to the fire. You and your aunt are welcome to use the oven. But don’t move the pot.”

Aziraphale tried to deliver the last line as authoritative as possible and Anathema had the decency to look impressed.

“Of course, sir,” she said with a serious face. “But actually, I came here to ask if you’re alright. You don’t give off the impression that you have been at sea often.”

A smile spread on Aziraphale’s face. Anathema’s concern was a nice change to the feeling of being insignificant which he’d had in Valvice all the time.

“I’m fine,” he said. “More than I thought I would be, to be honest. You’re right, I don’t have much experience at sea” _as not to say none at all_ , he thought. “But my quarter is very cosy and the crew is much nicer than I expected.”

“Oh, don’t let them hear that!” Anathema laughed. “They are dangerous pirates after all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Life at sea was surprisingly pleasant. Of course Aziraphale knew of the theoretical possibility of deadly storms and hostile ships. But at the moment the weather was in favour of the “Lilith” and as far as Aziraphale had heard nobody actively looked for a confrontation with her crew.

The pirates treated him kindly, often kinder than each other. Maybe this was because he was new, maybe because he was notably not forged in the same furnace as the average maritime bandit.

Agnes and Anathema were regular guests in his kitchen. Even if they did not need the oven, they made use of the wide worktops to sort their herbs and prepare their potions. Though Anathema did most of the talking while Agnes worked in silence, Agnes was a nice older woman. She often cast Aziraphale warm smiles and glances with mischievous, strangely knowing, eyes.

Soon Aziraphale suspected the two women practiced witchcraft, but he did not hold it against them. Neither did he begrudge them keeping it a secret. A lot of people were full of fear and hatred when it came to witches. Aziraphale was not one if them.

Very soon after beginning to work for Tracy, he had noticed that she had the “The Gift” as the talent for magic was called. But she had never been trained in using it properly. So the gift had shrivelled though never fully disappeared. Now and again it came to Tracy’s aid, especially when she was emotional. So Aziraphale had no problem with Agnes and Anathema. If anything, they were even more harmless than Tracy since they apparently knew what they were doing.

Aziraphale did not see much of the Captain. Crowley spent his time either in his quarters, on the bridge or together with his closest crew members in a conference room below deck.

However, for the meals he was usually present, eating and talking with the crew. Sometimes his eyes would find Aziraphale’s and he’d lift his glass to him. Now and again, he would even find his way to the kitchen and ask if Aziraphale had grown accustomed to his new work and life.

But he usually did so in the evening hours. So Aziraphale was surprised when the door opened shortly after breakfast with Crowley stepping in.

“Morning, angel.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the nickname, but let it slide.

“Good morning, Crowley,” he greeted.

“The most handsome and bravest pirate has a little request,” Crowley said while leaning suavely against the kitchen table.

“So?” Aziraphale raised his brows and put on an innocent smile. “If you see him, tell him he can come by anytime.”

Crowley pressed his lips together before they curled into an amused grin. With time Aziraphale had become more comfortable with teasing Crowley and bickering with him. Crowley had enough humour to take it.

“Still looking for trouble, angel?” Crowley asked.

“You’re too smart to throw the ship’s cook overboard a week before you reach your destination,” Aziraphale said, but then - in pretended fear - added, “Wait you _are_ too smart to do that, right?”

“Oh, I am,” Crowley said, his voice lowering. “But I’m also smart enough to come up with alternative punishments.”

Aziraphale swallowed. Doing his best to appear unaffected, he asked, “Can this wait until the most handsome and bravest pirate has stated his request?”

“Oh! Right,” Crowley said and cleared his throat. “Agnes and I have a rather… complicated… uh… thing we have to do. We probably won’t interrupt for dinner. Would you bring us something to the conference room this evening? Or just send Adam?”

“No, I’ll do it,” Aziraphale said in an admonishing tone. “You have the poor boy running around enough all day. It’s not his fault you couldn’t replace all the men who retired, you know? Let him have some peace in the evening.”

“Don’t spoil my crew, angel,” Crowley said in a stern voice. Then he tipped a finger against Aziraphale’s nose with a short laugh. “If I wanted them pampered, I’d allow one of those motherly Omegas on my ship.”

He turned to leave.

“Oh,” he said at the door. “Make sure the crew has their dinner before bringing some for Agnes and me, alright?”

“Y…yes, sir, captain, I mean… Crowley,” Aziraphale stammered.

He spent the rest of the day nervous. Was he being too obvious? No, nonsense. It just had been a flippant remark based on Crowley’s stupid prejudices against Omegas. Or was it? Of course. Nobody suspected a thing. Omegas were not allowed here. If someone suspected anything, Aziraphale would already be in big trouble.

Still, he put on a bit more scent blocker than usual and drank heat suppressant tea even though his last heat had passed and the next was not due yet.

Forcing himself to calm down, he did his job. When it was time to bring Agnes and Crowley their dinner, he put two filled plates, a carafe with wine and two mug on a tray and carried it to the conference room.

After knocking, immediately Crowley’s voice sounded through the door, calling Aziraphale in.

“Ah, wine!” Crowley exclaimed, grateful and relieved, as he spotted the carafe.

“Yes, and food,” Aziraphale reminded. “Maybe try balancing it out.”

Crowley and Agnes were sitting at a round table, cluttered with parchment and paper. In the middle, apparently the focus of their attention, lay an old scroll, yellowed by age, surrounded by several notes.

Careful, as not to stain anything, Aziraphale put down the plates on free spots and the wine on a nearby side table.

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley grinned, knowing full well how the term flustered Aziraphale.

Aziraphale sighed, “A man, able to read Andurith, but not capable of coming up with…”

“Wait – what do you mean?” Crowley’s head whipped around and his hand grabbed Aziraphale’s arm. “How do you know about that?”

“The… the scroll on the table. It’s in Andurith,” Aziraphale said and hurried to say, “I… I didn’t mean to spy. It just lies there and…”

“I mean, how do you know it’s Andurith?” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes in distrust. “Agnes is by far the most educated person on this ship and even she could only translate enough to get the gist of the text. How does a cook even recognize the language?”

Aziraphale swallowed. It was true. The knowledge of the ancient language Andurith was a rather rare skill outside of professions of law and medicine. The only reason he knew it was because a lot of alchemistic symbols were based on Andurith. Tracy had only taught him the basics. But he had gotten curious and bugged Newt long enough to borrow his books about the language and the connected culture.

“I… I just…,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley stood and stepped into Aziraphale’s personal space. With a threatening, dark expression on his face he loomed over Aziraphale, eyes sharp as knives.

“How?” he repeated with a growl.

Aziraphale tried coming up with a lie, but his mind froze at the sight of the angry golden eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

“Agnes is by far the most educated person on this ship and even she could only translate enough to get the gist of the text. How does a cook even recognize the language?”

Crowley glared at Aziraphale, watching the aquamarine eyes grow wide and the ivory skin turn even paler.

“I… I just…,” Aziraphale stammered.

But Crowley would not have that. He had met too many people, heard too many lies and witnessed too many betrayals as not to recognize a man who tried to come up with a false story.

His grip still tight on Aziraphale’s arm, Crowley left his seat and planted himself in front of Aziraphale. Being notably taller than Aziraphale, Crowley knew it would be easy to scare him.

“How?” he asked again, lowering his voice into a deep dark rumble.

In stunned silence and visibly afraid, Aziraphale just stared at him. Crowley was about to up his intimidation game to make Aziraphale talk when someone else broke the silence.

“Hey!” Agnes stood from her chair as well and grabbed Crowley’s hand which was circled around Aziraphale’s arms. “Will you leave the man alone?”

“But he…”

“He what? Had a life before coming here?” Agnes asked. “You always tell new crew members that you do not care about what they did in the past as long as they obey your rules now.”

“Yes, but…”

“And I’m sure there are men and women on board who committed worse crimes than learning an old language,” Agnes continued. “So, you let the man go now!”

Reluctantly Crowley set Aziraphale’s arm free.

“You can go,” he said without looking at Aziraphale. “Thanks for the food.”

Aziraphale wasted no time and was out of the door seconds later.

Crowley pressed both his hands flat on the table and looked at Agnes.

“You know that’s different, right?” he said. “People with a shady past, working on a pirate ship - that is to be expected. Someone signing up on such a ship, as cook or something else, and pulling that kind of knowledge out of their sleeves? ‘Tis not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” Agnes agreed. “But you cannot be surprised that this man,” she pointed at the door Aziraphale had left through, “is not like the rest of your crew. So he had a past different from yours or your other men‘s. How does being able to read an ancient language make him a bigger threat to your ship than potential murderers, robbers or rapists?”

Crowley opened his mouth for an indignant rejoinder, but Agnes lifted her hand to stop him.

“I’m not saying that your comrades _are_ those things,” she said with a placating gesture. “But you know that they might as well be since you make nobody disclose their past. Do you know what your problem with Aziraphale is?”

Huffing, Crowley let himself fall back into his chair.

“No,” he sighed. “But I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

Agnes smiled.

“Damn right, I will.”

Crowley could not help smirking at that and gestured to her to get on with it.

“You are afraid of educated people.”

“Pfff,” Crowley made. “Sure. My nightmares are filled with musers and brooders, threatening to bore me to death.”

“Mock all you want Crowley,” Agnes said. “You know that there is power in knowledge and you are the kind of person to see the danger of power.”

“Well, I’m not afraid of you or Anathema.”

“Yes,” Agnes chuckled. “And how long did it take for you to trust us? A year? A year and a half? You trust the dubious figures coming here to sign up at once, but two women from a small village had to work for it. You are afraid of knowledgeable people.”

“Nonsense,” Crowley said. “Knowledge not only comes out of universities and libraries. If I was scared of it or the power that comes with it, I’d surround myself with human failures.”

“Hmm, yes.” Agnes nodded. “You fear the kind of skill that you can’t counter. Sword fighting, wrestling, running, swimming, haggling, bantering – if someone is good at those, you always at least have a chance to be better. Ancient language and history? Not so much.”

“Oh, please!” Crowley threw his arms up. “How much power can lie in the knowledge of ancient languages and history?”

Agnes raised a brow and very slowly put the tip of her index finger on the parchment in the middle of the table.

“The power to find what you are looking for,” Agnes said, wearing a casual expression but with a triumphant glint in her eyes, knowing she had won. “There is a chance that he might be able to find what you need.”

Sighing Crowley poured himself a mug of wine.

“Am I not right to distrust him then?” Crowley asked. “Maybe it’s no coincidence after all that just now someone with that knowledge joins my crew. Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe he tries worming himself into my crew to snatch the item for himself.”

“Hmm, short, chubby, soft and white as the moon,” Agnes said. “He sure does a great job of blending in on a pirate ship.”

“Easier than trying to be something he is not.”

“Crowley,” Agnes put her hand on his. “Think. How likely is it that word of the scroll we found even left this room, let alone travelled to Valvice and beyond faster than the Lilith?”

“Not very,” Crowley grumbled.

“So wouldn’t it be the smartest solution to not scare the little thing to death, but maybe ask for his help?” Agnes suggested. “I’m at wit’s end with the parchment. Maybe he can help.”

“Alright, I ask him,” Crowley said.

He stood, grabbed the copy of the scroll Anathema had made and left the room.

“After apologizing!” Agnes called after him and even though Crowley was already out of the door, he could positively feel her smile.

*

A faint smell of stew still hung in the air, but the room had already been cleaned. Aziraphale was very thorough in keeping his workplace in order.

Crowley found Aziraphale with his back turned to the door, looking into an open barrel, making notes. But Aziraphale immediately swung around when the door opened. His eyes widened and he took a step back, bumping into the barrel.

Then he just stood there like scared prey in front of a wolf – an imagine doing weird things to Crowley. But despite his visible nervousness, Aziraphale’s expression became determined.

“Crowley,” he said with his cute nose held high. “I was just making a list of skills I have - for you to approve of. I can not only read but also count higher than up to three. Does that warrant a special permission?”

To keep himself from smiling, Crowley pressed his lips together. It was certainly more impressive to be scared and still stand up for oneself than doing so while unafraid.

“I’m here to apologize,” Crowley said.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s challenging posture faded. “G… good. You were rather… rude.”

“Yes,” Crowley said. “I was. I’m stressed and admittedly a bit paranoid, I…” he sighed and took a deep breath. “I found a chance to put some things right that I had given up on and now that I have it, I’m scared that it will slip from my fingers again… or will be taken away.”

Aziraphale’s face softened.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said. “I’m not here to steal from you or to snatch away whatever treasure you are looking for. I just want to… be on this ship.”

“Yes, I know, angel,” Crowley said.

Silence fell for a moment. Aziraphale broke it first.

“I’m really just curious and you don’t have to answer. But is this why we are going to Mernoc?” he asked. “Because it is the only known part of Andur?”

“Is it?” Crowley asked. “We are going there because it is mentioned in the text of the scroll.” Thrilled, he stepped closer to Aziraphale. “Was it? Part of the Andurian Empire?”

“Well, nobody knows for sure,” Aziraphale said. “Old texts do mention a city in the south of the Empire named Mer _nuc_. ‘Mer’ means sea or ocean while a ‘nucus’ was a guard.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Crowley asked, astonished. Upon seeing Aziraphale’s face fall, Crowley hurried to say, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. Agnes is right, nobody on this ship has to disclose his past and you belong on this ship. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“For a while I had my hands on a lot of books about the language and the culture,” Aziraphale said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one or the other was a rare edition and the information in it not widely spread. One dealt not with the language at all but with their judicial system. It was called ‘Forgotten Justice’, I think.”

“Oh, sounds boring.”

“Not at all!” Aziraphale’s eyes suddenly lit up like a match. “Did you know that according to legends they used magic items in some of their processes?”

Crowley pricked up his ears.

“Magic items?”

“The author of the book theorized it was reserved for very important cases of great public interest, of course,” Aziraphale said. “After all magical artefacts were known but still a rarity.”

“How did that work?”

“You have been in court before, I assume?”

“Yup,” Crowley smirked. “Always walked away a free man though.”

“Of course you did,” Aziraphale said. “Anyway. When a witness is making their oath they hold a small scale in their hand, right? And the judge has a hammer?”

“I remember.”

“These are in fact remainders of Andurian tradition,” Aziraphale said. “Merely symbolic today of course. But in ‘Forgotten Justice’ the author theorizes that whoever touched the scale was unable to lie for a certain amount of time.”

“And the hammer?”

“It served as a sort of back up,” Aziraphale said. “After all some people are better at withstanding magic than others, some may have found countermeasures. So the hammer gave the judge the ability to notice a lie.”

Crowley turned his head and stared into the dying hearth fire. It could be. The scroll contained the words ‘… of truth’ and described exactly what Aziraphale had told him. He pulled the copy of the parchment out of his coat.

He pointed at the word Agnes could not translate.

“This. Could this be ‘scale’?”

Aziraphale stepped closer, his warm soft body pressing against Crowley’s. He leant down to see better in the dim light.

“Yes,” he finally confirmed. “’Scale of truth’.”

Biting his lip, Crowley hesitated for a moment. But Agnes was right. He had to trust his crew and Aziraphale was part of it.

Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

“Look, angel,” he said. “I know you have a hard job and had a long day. And I completely understand if you’d rather go to bed. But would you tell me some more about Andur? And maybe have a look at the text? See if you can translate more of it than Agnes?”

The wide smile Aziraphale gave him was blinding and endearing.

“Of course, Crowley!” Aziraphale beamed. “I’ll help you. Get comfortable and give me a moment. I’ll stoke the fire.”

“Alright,” Crowley said. “I’ll get some wine.”

“Oh, should we? I don’t want to end up staining the scroll.”

“It’s a copy and we’ll be careful,” Crowley said and winked. “Come on, angel, we’re working in the night. We deserve nice things.”

A blush and another stunning smile adorned Aziraphale’s face as he nodded.

“As you wish.”

*

To Aziraphale’s delight he was able to decipher the text. Of course he would need more time to make a precise translation, but it was possible to give Crowley context and the general content.

It felt good to do something for Crowley.

“It’s a letter from an Andurian noble to a relative, a cousin or a brother,” Aziraphale said. “He was a collector and apparently he purchased a stolen ‘scale of truth’ on the black market. He describes its powers and that he has hidden it.”

“Oh, so he _had_ it?” Crowley asked excitedly. “Agnes thought he had an idea where to find it.”

Aziraphale pointed at a paragraph.

“This passage, right? It is an easy mistake to make,” he said. “This man had an… interesting way to word things.”

“So is the mentioned stone circle the place to find it?” Crowley asked. “Does ‘stone circle’ have a specific meaning for Andurians?”

“Stone circle?” Aziraphale furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Wait.” Crowley moved his chair closer to Aziraphale and put his finger on a passage near the letter’s end.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Not ‘stones’, dear, ‘rocks’, ‘eight large rocks, surrounding a larger one’.”

Crowley’s eyes widened and Aziraphale thought he might lose himself in them.

“Pirate Rock!” Crowley exclaimed.

“What?”

“It’s a group of rocks northwest of Mernoc,” Crowley explained. “They surround a large island. It’s hard to reach for bigger ships so once pirates used it as a hiding spot for several decades. They even had a small infrastructure on the island.”

“Past tense?”

“Yes, at one point the Royal Navy gathered all their power to attack them,” Crowley said. “Every pirate who was on the island that day either died then and there or got executed later.”

“Horrible.”

“Pirate’s life, angel.”

Crowley told him more about Pirate Rock and Aziraphale dove deeper into the passage about the scale’s hiding spot and it seemed to match.

“Aziraphale, you are amazing!” Crowley said, making Aziraphale blush. “Without you, we might have looked forever at the wrong spots.”

It was infectious how thrilled Crowley became. He refilled their glasses and urged Aziraphale to tell him more about Andur. Aziraphale was happy to oblige.

For a while they spoke about the Andurian Empire.

“So you’re saying it covered 60 percent of what we now call the Northern Sea and all that is left is Mernoc?”

“Seems like it, yes,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, and maybe Pirate Rock from what we learned just today. Although it probably had a different name.”

Around midnight the wine had reddened their cheeks and weighed on their tongues. So they decided to leave the scroll be for the night. But Crowley did not go and Aziraphale was not at all complaining. He was happy to keep chatting and drinking.

“What you mean, you were done with ‘The Yellow Book of Riddles’ within a week?” Crowley slurred. “Took me a month!”

“Aww, don’t… oops… feel bad, dear!” Bold – thanks to the alcohol and the late hour – Aziraphale patted Crowley’s hand in a comforting manner. “Thazz only ‘cause ’m smarter than you.”

Chuckling, Crowley held out his mug to him.

“You can be a real bastard, y’know that?” he said with a broad grin.

“Well, thazz hardly surprising, dear” Aziraphale said. “I’m a pirate after all.”

Crowley threw back his head, red hair flying behind him, and laughed.

“Oh, angel!” he exclaimed. “That you can say that wizza straight face.”

“What?” Aziraphale pouted. “I work on a pirate ship!”

“Doesn’t make you a pirate, angel,” Crowley said with a serious expression. “After all, being on a Royal Navy ship doesn’t make you royla…royalala… doesn’t make you a king.”

“Then I’m a pirate… in training,” Aziraphale insisted.

“Nah.” Crowley wildly shook his head. “Too cute for a pirate.”

“You’re even a pirate captain,” Aziraphale gave back. “Even though you’re so… so…”

“So wot?”

“Nice.”

Aziraphale must have blinked. Because without warning Crowley’s face was suddenly only inches from his own. The golden eyes glowed in the fire’s light and the warm breath tickled Aziraphale’s skin. A smirk lay on Crowley’s lips as he bent over to Aziraphale.

“You think I’m nice, angel?” he asked in a dark tone.

Aziraphale swallowed and felt his cheeks up even more. But there was something to be said about liquid courage.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Yes, I do.”

Now Crowley moved even closer, their noses almost touching.

“What if it’s just a ruse?” he whispered. “To lure unsuspecting angels in?”

“That… would be positively wicked.” Aziraphale breathed out, giving a scandalized tone to his voice – even though he was not scandalized at all. “You wouldn’t do such a thing, would you?”

Leaving his chair, Crowley brought his lips to Aziraphale’s ear.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley purred. “You have so much to learn about pirates.”

Crowley leant back to study Aziraphale’s face. Still hypnotized by Crowley’s eyes, Aziraphale did not move at all when Crowley brushed their noses together. Like in trance he mirrored the tilting of Crowley’s head as Crowley closed the gap between their lips.

His long and slender fingers found their way into Aziraphale’s hair to hold him close. Aziraphale could not stop his eyelids from fluttering shut. Crowley pulled him to his feet and pressed their bodies together.

In the back of his mind Aziraphale thought this was a bad idea, but his twitching cock was a way stronger sensation. Sighing, he put his arms around Crowley and all but melted against the pirate.

A loud knock sounded from the door.

Crowley and Aziraphale broke apart, stumbling away from each other.

“Y… yes?” Aziraphale called out after catching his breath.

The door opened and Anathema stepped in. Her eyes were focused on a pack of cards she flitted between her hands.

“I saw light, Aziraphale. I can’t sleep either. Would you like to play…,” she looked up, saw Crowley and Aziraphale, “…cards?”

Suspicious, she let her eyes wander between Aziraphale and Crowley. The men tried to appear casual, but Crowley’s hair was dishevelled, his cheeks red and his breath elated. Aziraphale could only imagine that he looked equally compromised.

“Oh no, dear,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “But not tonight. I’m very tired.”

Crowley cleared his throat.

“Erm, yes, Aziraphale needs sleep now,” he said. “He helped me with the scroll.”

“The scroll,” Anathema repeated with narrowed eyes.

“That’s what I said. We should let him rest. Good night, an…. Aziraphale.”

With that Crowley grabbed Anathemas shoulders, turned her around and manhandled her out of the kitchen.

“Yes, good night, my dears,” Aziraphale called after them.

After the door had fallen shut, Aziraphale stared at it for a moment. Then he noticed something wet between his butt cheeks.

Cursing, he rushed to get rid of his clothes and to clean himself. Damn himself and his stupid attraction to Crowley.

If not for Anathema he would have given himself away. What could he have told Crowley?

_Oh, we don’t need lubrication, my dear, my body slicked itself which is not at all a sign for me being an Omega._

Groaning he sank down on his bed. Close. Too close.

He would need to be more careful. If only Crowley were not so irresistible.

*

Wide awake, Crowley lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. Close call. Had Anathema not appeared, he would have taken Aziraphale then and there. And Aziraphale would have let him. So Crowley did not know whether to curse or thank Anathema for her interruption.

On the one hand it was not smart to mess with crew members in that way. Clouded judgement, accusations of favouritism and distraction, not even to speak of the awkwardness when it ended.

On the other hand Crowley now had to deal with a rock hard cock underneath his blanket that longed for Aziraphale’s soft form.

If there ever was a forbidden fruit for Crowley, it was Aziraphale. And for a while now, Crowley pondered if he could allow himself a bite. Usually only seeking out Omegas for relief, Crowley would forgo them all for having Aziraphale’s plush body beneath him.

Not only said body worked like a beacon on Crowley’s libido, the sassy mouth as well awoke the desire to occupy it otherwise.

There was more to his ship’s cook than he shared, Crowley was sure of that. But that secrecy only increased the magnetic effect of the cute guy.

As a Beta, especially a male one, Aziraphale would have trouble taking his knot, but outside his rut Crowley could control it. And besides, there was so much on Aziraphale he wanted to mark and claim.

Crowley groaned at the thought. There would be no sleep without taking care of his erection first. So he allowed himself to imagine what would have happened if Anathema was not an insomniac.

While he circled his hand around his hard manhood, Crowley imagined kissing Aziraphale deeper and dirtier, possessive, with teeth and tongue.

Crowley would manoeuvre them to Aziraphale’s bed. He’d tell Aziraphale to undress and Aziraphale would obey. The luscious body and the creamy white skin would be exposed to Crowley’s greedy gaze within seconds.

_While he pondered what to do with his lovely prey, Crowley explored every dip and curve of Aziraphale with his hands. He started almost innocently by stroking along his shoulders and back. But soon he wandered lower, digging the tips of his fingers into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s arse._

_Aziraphale was pliant in his arms, letting out low moans, small whimpers and occasionally a muttered “please”._

_Oh yes. Crowley was going to make the sassy little thing beg._

While he stroke his throbbing manhood with abandon, Crowley could almost hear Aziraphale pleading, wailing and asking to be fucked in his sweet voice.

_“Oh, I will,” Crowley whispered. “But there is so much of you I want to fuck. How to decide? Your sweet overbold mouth? Those lovely thighs? Or your delicious arse?”_

_Aziraphale shuddered at the words and keened when Crowley’s teeth grazed his neck._

_“Please, Crowley,” he sighed. “Whatever you want! Do to me what you want, but do it.”_

_“Greedy little thing. Who would have thought that there is such a slut underneath this innocent façade,” Crowley chuckled. “And you are a little slut, aren’t you?”_

_“Yes, sir, captain, I am!” Aziraphale nodded wildly. “But please…”_

_“And whose little slut are you?”_

_“Your, Crowley, only yours!”_

_With a satisfied sound Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulder, turned him around and bent him over the bed. After hasty preparation, Crowley spread the round arse cheeks and pushed in._

Crowley imagined watching his cock slide in and out of Aziraphale again and again at a punishing pace. The picture had him come hard and fast. He had to press his free hand over his mouth to make sure nobody heard him.

When he could think clearly again, Crowley got up with a groan to clean himself up, at least a bit. A weird mixture of contentment and guilt gripped him as he lay back on his mattress.

He reminded himself that fantasies did not hurt anyone. Of course he could only hope the kiss in the kitchen had not caused any hurt either.

Sighing, he resolved to focus on his search from now on. This was too great a chance to mess it up.


	5. Chapter 5

“Aziraphale?” Crowley stepped into the kitchen, stomach in knots.

Aziraphale was cutting vegetables at the table, but immediately looked up to greet Crowley with a shy smile. Putting away his knife, Aziraphale stood.

“What can I do for you, dear?” he asked.

Upon looking into the large eyes, Crowley swallowed. He felt bad, but it had to be done.

“I’m here to apologize. Again,” he said sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. We were both drunk, but I’m used to more than you. Aside from that I’m the captain and shouldn’t…”

“Let me interrupt you right there, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “I’m an adult, I can handle some cheap red wine just fine and you did not use your status as captain to make me kiss you.” 

“No, but…”

“But what?” Aziraphale smiled. “Do you think I froze in fear, blinded by your rank?”

Crowley chuckled, “No, my rank never impressed you too much. But still, I am the captain and that complicates…”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. “It was a drunken lapse of judgement on both our sides. We can be adults about it and leave it behind.”

“Al…alright,” Crowley said, surprised. He was not sure what he had expected. Of course he had not feared Aziraphale would make a scene, but him being so casual about it, was not on the list either. 

“Great!” Aziraphale beamed at him. “Is there anything else you need? Otherwise I should return to these.” 

He pointed at the vegetables on the table.

“Of course,” Crowley said. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Not sure whether to be relieved or hurt in his pride, Crowley returned to his cabin to study his nautical charts. 

Indeed Mernoc was at the south border of what scholars believed to be the former sovereign territory of the lost Andurian Empire. Pirate Rock was only a few days’ journey to the northwest of Mernoc. So it was possible that a citizen of Andur might have had property there or at least storage of some sort.

Pirate Rock, however, was not easy territory. When Crowley was on a ship for the first time, many years ago, the island had already become a place of legend. 

After the attack no pirate had dared to reclaim the spot. At first, out of fear the Royal Army might return. But then, when a few years had passed, this fear faded – and the stories came up. Stories that spread faster than the grass of Pirate Rock over the corpses of the fallen pirates.

Stories of lost souls, wandering the island at night, bringing madness to those who listened to their cries for too long. Stories of wild animals, once peaceful, but now possessed by the more vengeful spirits trapped on Pirate Rock.

Pirates – as a group – were nothing if not superstitious. Crowley himself might be an exception, but still it left him with the problem that there was little known about the conditions on Pirate Rock as it was today. While Crowley may not believe that dead pirates haunted the island, he _did_ believe in wild animals and unsafe territory. 

The good thing was that the sea knew no ‘never’. Most people might have avoided Pirate Rock, but there was always someone crazy enough to do what others dared not do. 

So while Crowley had new information, his current destination remained the same: Mernoc. Because that was where the crazy people went in between their journeys.

*

“Soooo… you and the captain?” 

Aziraphale flinched. With effort, he forced himself to keep focusing on the weekly meal plan. Of course Anathema could not know, but this time her soft and cheerful voice cut through Aziraphale like a knife.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he lied, wishing it was the truth. Wishing nothing had happened between him and Crowley that had stoked that stupid, extraordinarily hazardous fire which had burnt inside him for the stunning pirate captain from the beginning.

Because what had started as the silly fantasy of a young man about a strong, handsome, charming and seductively dangerous pirate, was now a fully grown crush on a strong, handsome, charming and seductively dangerous pirate who was also funny, intelligent, compassionate and full of infectious enthusiasm.

“It is insulting if you think that there is even the tiniest chance for me to believe that,” Anathema laughed while throwing some dried herbs into the pot on the oven. “I saw the state you two were in last night. I think, had I arrived a few moments later, this would have been a very embarrassing situation for all of us.” 

“You are seeing things, dear.”

“Erm, yes, I do,” she chuckled as she stepped to Aziraphale. “Just last night, I saw – with my very own eyes, through freshly cleaned glasses – that Crowley and you,” she poked Aziraphale’s chest, “stood very closely together, were very red in the faces and very…”

“There was nothing, dear,” Aziraphale interrupted. “Because, if there was, hypothetically, I’d tell you,” with pleading eyes, he looked at her and gave her a sad smile, “unless it was a painful thing to talk about - hypothetically.”

The teasing smile disappeared from Anathema’s face and her eyes clouded with worry. She cupped Aziraphale’s face, stroking along his cheekbone with her thumb.

“Don’t you think talking about it might help if it is a painful thing? Hypothetically?” she asked.

“Not now, dear,” Aziraphale said. “Please.”

“Alright.”

*

Days passed. Weeks passed. And finally, far across the endless sea, standing dark against the golden red sky of dawn, Mernoc appeared on the horizon. 

While Crowley was tense, getting closer to his goal and yet not close enough, his crew was exhilarated. Excitement spread among them. To no surprise they looked forward to a few days in the city of Mernoc, the biggest seaport of the island of the same name. Sharing stories of entertaining days and thrilling nights in the shady streets, they all were in a fantastic mood.

Aziraphale however was visibly nervous. For a while Crowley kept his resolve to keep his distance. But at some point he could no longer stand watching Aziraphale upset. So he visited the kitchen.

“Hey, angel,” Crowley greeted softly. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, hello, dear.” Aziraphale gave him a nervous smile. “It’s nothing really. Just me being a bit silly.”

Crowley looked at him fondly and shook his head.

“It’s hard to imagine you of all people being silly,” he said. “What is it?”

Biting his lips, Aziraphale began to wring his hands. He pointedly avoided Crowley’s eyes and stared at the floor.

“All the stories the others tell about Mernoc…” Aziraphale said. “They make me a bit nervous. I can see why it is a welcome adventure for a pirate. But as we established, I’m not really one.”

Aziraphale blushed and Crowley cleared his throat at the reference to _this_ night in the kitchen. But Crowley quickly changed the topic.

“You needn’t worry,” he promised. “Hastur and Ligur will accompany you when you restock the supplies.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience them,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley chuckled, “They offered this before I could ask. Nobody wants anything to happen to you.” He hesitated for a moment, but then said, “After dark we can show you the famous nightlife.”

At the last sentence he winked at Aziraphale before he could remind himself that flirty expressions were not the best idea. Flustered, Aziraphale averted his eyes but nodded.

“Maybe,” he said. “I need to go back to work. How long until we arrive?”

“An hour, two at most.”

“I’ll be on deck.”

*

Aziraphale packed his bag for the shore leave. He was still nervous, but knowing Hastur and Ligur were by his side, eased his mind a lot. The only problem would be buying new ingredients for his blockers. He would have to come up with an explanation why he needed to buy alchemistic supplies.

The solution to this difficulty walked in right as Aziraphale had finished the thought – in the form of Agnes Nutter.

“Laddie,” she said. “I’ll make this short. I hate this island. With every fibre of my being. And I might kill someone if I have to deal with it for too long.”

“Good morning to you, too, Miss Nutter,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

“There is nothing good about this morning unless you tell me that you can do this for me.” Agnes handed Aziraphale a list of herbs and medical basics she apparently had run out on. 

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, maybe a bit too quick.

“Thank you, dearie,” Agnes said and handed him a satchel with coins. “Should be more than enough. Buy yourself something nice with the rest.”

Cheeks heating, Aziraphale cleared his throat. Agnes could not know how fitting her last remark was. This was perfect. It was a plausible reason to find a pharmacy without Hastur and Ligur wondering why. And there was no way the two would notice if Aziraphale bought more than was on the list.

Mernoc was about the same size as Valvice, but even shadier and its architecture wilder. While the houses of Valvice were often in a bad shape, the facades cracking and the stonewalls dirty, their layout and formation made sense. Here in Mernoc it looked like buildings were erected on a whim without minding what others were doing.

The same mindset was found among those moving in the streets. People jostled, bumped and barged into each other, cursed each other and went on with their way.

But Aziraphale was spared.

Because after leaving the ship, Ligur and Hastur took Aziraphale into their middle. Those two were not the type people used to push and offend. Beez was accompanying them, but had already announced she was going to find the next pub and get drunk.

The pirates led Aziraphale through the busy port’s promenade. Hastur was ridiculously excited. Like a proud house owner he showed Aziraphale around, praising the atmosphere, the “breeze of adventure”, diversity of goods and people – and the sex.

“Tell you what,” Hastur said. “The Omegas here are lovely. And not so picky.”

Behind them, Beez snorted.

“If you only can lay Omegas who,” she made air quotes “‘aren’t so picky’, you should ask yourself why.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ligur smirked at her.

“Oh yes!” Hastur leant conspiratorially towards Aziraphale. “Beez has one fine Omega in Valvice,” very loud he said, “but she ain’t one to share.”

“Maybe I would,” Beez said with a shrug. “If Dagon wasn’t ten times your worth.”

“You wound me,” Hastur said while holding his chest dramatically.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Beez said. “Oh look, that one looks cheap and dirty,” she pointed at a shady pub they just passed. “See you later.”

Without another word, Beez left them to enter the tavern. Concerned Aziraphale watched after her, eyeing all the suspicious figures lurking around.

“She can look after herself,” Ligur said, guessing Aziraphale’s thoughts correctly. “Let’s get your stuff.”

Patiently, Hastur and Ligur followed Aziraphale over the big and crowded marketplace. They glowered at the merchants before they named their prices, helped carry the goods and – as Aziraphale had hoped – did not ask once why he was buying which products.

Maybe the time in Mernoc would not be so bad.

*

Two hours after most of the crew had left to wander around Mernoc, Crowley was ready to go as well. He would seek out his usual informants, hoping for anything about Pirate Rock. 

Just as he was ready to disembark, he heard hasty footsteps on the gangway. To Crowley’s surprise, it was Beez running back on deck.

Crowley swallowed. He had seen her leave with Hastur, Ligur and Aziraphale.

“What’s wrong?” he barked at her. “Did something happen to Az… the others?”

Confused, she tilted her head and gave him a questioning look.

“What? I don’t know. I went drinking while they played bodyguard for blondie.”

“And you’re done already?”

“No, but I interrupted to let you know that you should come to the ‘Grinning Monkey’ after sunset,” she said.

“Why? Their stew gave me food poisoning the last time.”

“Then stick to the booze, you big baby.” Beez rolled her eyes. “I met an adventurer after splitting with the guys. Goes around abandoned places, snatching valuables nobody will come for anymore.”

“So?”

“She was on Pirate Rock and has some stories to tell.”

*

Through the small window of the tavern, Aziraphale immediately spotted Crowley and some selected members of the crew. Aziraphale was sure the ship’s cook would not really fit into the illustrious group of Crowley’s confidants. But Ligur and Hastur manoeuvred him through the door. Since he was struggling in their hold, everyone looked at them as they entered.

But Aziraphale only really noticed Crowley’s golden eyes who stared at him in surprise.

“Aziraphale!” he said when Hastur and Ligur had dragged the wiggling Aziraphale to the table. “I hadn’t expected you.”

“I… I apologize,” Aziraphale said, embarrassed. “I did not want to impose.” He glared at Hastur and Ligur. “But those brutes…”

“You’re not imposing,” Crowley hurried to say. “It might be good you’re here.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, the more we are, the higher the chance we notice if the lady is messing with us.”

“True! Yer a smart un, laddie,” Shadwell said. “Can never harm to have un of those ‘round.”

“Helloho!” Beez said. “Nothing against Aziraphale’s smart and pretty head, but I’m not an idiot either. I met her and I’m sure she is not a fraud.”

“Don’t take it personally, dear,” Aziraphale told her. “You heard it. They’re just making up reasons for me to be here so they can get me drunk.”

“Well, duh. Of course we want you here,” Hastur said, emptying Beez’ glass, earning himself a slap on the head. “You feed us which makes you our bestest friend.”

“And it can’t be too expensive to get you properly drunk,” Ligur laughed.

“Don’t underestimate Aziraphale,” Crowley grinned. “He can hold his wine.”

“Then we’ll get him whiskey and beer,” Shadwell suggested and tried drawing the maid’s attention. “Wine’s for fancy Omegas anyway, not for us dirty bastards.”

Aziraphale was not sure if this was a jab at Omegas or the crew or both. So he decided to ignore the remark and enjoy the evening.

The hours passed fast on wine and laughter. A warm feeling spread in Aziraphale’s chest while he sat between the crew. His resolve regarding Crowley wavered in the proximity of the handsome pirate. More than once he held Crowley’s gaze longer than he should, reacted with a shy smile to a flirty wink and did nothing to stop Crowley’s chair from moving closer to his over the evening.

Around midnight, a short breeze rushed through the taproom. At first Aziraphale paid it no mind, too focused on pretending not to melt under Crowley’s gaze. But then he saw Hastur nudging Crowley and pointing towards the door. Crowley immediately stood.

An athletic looking woman stood near the entrance and let her eyes wander. Long black hair bound to a practical ponytail, she wore a light leather armour. Two short blades were attached to her belt and she had adorned her light-brown skin with several tattoos, some reminding Aziraphale of those numerous crew members had.

Crowley’s sudden interest in the woman sent an irrational spike of jealousy through Aziraphale. But studying Crowley’s face closer, gave more the impression of a professional reason.

The woman saw Crowley waving. She acknowledged him with a gesture of her hand and made her way through the room to meet him. 

“Captain Crowley?” she asked and, as he nodded, stretched out her hand. “I’m Uriel. I heard you are interested in Pirate Rock?”

“That I am.” Crowley took the offered hand. Then he gestured Beez to make room for Uriel to sit.

“Thank you.” Uriel took a place at the table and ordered a beer. Then she turned to Crowley.

“Well, your friend here,” Uriel pointed at Beez, “was very secretive. So I don’t know what exactly you are looking for, but I was on Pirate Rock with my partners a few years ago.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping for treasures the pirates hid and the soldiers did not find,” Uriel answered. “Wasn’t as much as I hoped, but we found some old goods.”

“A reward for having the courage no one else had,” Crowley said. “Good for you, but how does that help me?”

“We made a map of the island,” Uriel said. “So whatever you want there, it can help you plan and organize.”

“How much for the map and how much for you to be our guide?” Crowley asked.

Uriel shook her head.

“You can have the map for 100 gold pieces,” she said. “But I won’t go back there.”

Hastur slid back and forth on his chair in a nervous manner. 

“So… Is it true? I… is the island haunted?” he asked with fearful eyes.

A loud laughter escaped Ligur next to him. 

“Haunted?” he repeated mockingly. “There is no such thing as ghosts. Of course it is not haunted.”

“It is haunted,” Uriel said. “But the ghosts aren’t the problem.”

At that Crowley raised a brow and chuckled.

“Really? I’d think ghosts pretty much are a problem.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Uriel said, sipping her beer. “Scared the shit out of me the first time. We put our tent up in the old campsite near the beach. The first night, that white transparent figure just walks right through the tent. Screaming we run out and see the whole camp is full of them.”

“That _does_ sound like a problem,” Aziraphale finally chimed in.

“One would think so,” Uriel nodded. “But they didn’t do anything to us. They… weren’t really there I think. They were in a loop. Repeating the same things and movements again and again in a pretty short frequency. Just… memories.”

“Still,” Aziraphale said empathetically. “Must have been disturbing.”

Uriel’s indifferent expression wavered. Suddenly sadness filled her eyes and she nodded.

“It was,” she said. “The reminder of all these lives being eradicated within hours – it was deeply saddening. That’s why when the next day we explored the north of the island, we decided to make camp on a clearing in the woods. We had discovered some old statues and planned on examining them, but the sun was setting already. Not wanting to return to the camp, we decided to rest there. Why not, we thought,” she gave a humourless chuckle, “, the weather was clear, the tent was robust and the clearing was large enough so no tree branches would fall on us.”

She emptied her glass in one swallow and waved at the maid for more.

“Big mistake,” Uriel continued. “John, one of my partners, had the first watch. I heard him scream an hour or so after going to sleep. We run out to see that… thing hovering over his bloodied corpse. It looked like some sort of black wolf, but it was no wolf. Its eyes glowed orange in the darkness and not even rabies could explain that level of aggression and strength. It had ripped John in two within seconds. It jumped us and I could barely dodge. I drew my weapons and had to stab it five times until it died. We were still staring in shock at the beast and at John’s dead body, when we heard the howling in the distance. Before we even understood what that meant, the clearing was filled with glowing eyes, dancing in the darkness. We ran back through the woods. When I left the tree line behind they did not follow, but they got Flint and Cassius. We were five when we arrived and only two of us left the island. I had the bag with our loot, but sometimes I think this made it worse. Tom drank himself to death out of guilt since then.”

Silence had fallen over the table while Uriel had spoken. Uriel took her fresh beer from the maid and had a large swig. When she had put her glass down, Aziraphale stretched his arm to lay his hand on hers.

“I’m so sorry for your losses, my dear,” he said.

Surprised, Uriel stared at their touching hands and then at Aziraphale.

“Th… thank you,” she said. “It was a hard time. But I’m ready to leave this behind. I don’t know why I never just burnt the accursed map, but if I can make some money with it, I’m glad I didn’t.”

“So are we,” Crowley said. “Sorry about your friends, Uriel.”

Uriel nodded.

“I appreciate it. So, do we have a deal?”

“We do.”

After shaking hands with Crowley, Uriel left the tavern and returned a few moments later with a piece of parchment.

She laid it out on the table to explain it. Everyone stared at Aziraphale who had pulled out his journal and was ready to make notes.

“What?” he asked and raised a brow. “Most of you have trouble remembering their own name when drunk and you all had plenty.”

“You got a point, angel,” Crowley grinned. “Please continue, Uriel.”

She showed them the main points and also warned that whatever treasure the campsite had held had been taken by her and her friends.

“If something of interest is left,” she pointed at the clearing she had recorded on the map, “it is on or around the clearing. But don’t go there after dark! I swear we haven’t seen hide nor hair from these monsters during the day and my instincts are good. But in the night there was a dozen of them, maybe more.”

“We will remember that,” Crowley promised and, casting Aziraphale a fond smile, added, “and Aziraphale wrote it down.”

Blushing, Aziraphale put on a defiant look, but did not say anything. 

Crowley bought Uriel another drink before she left. Her sad story had put a damper on the crew’s mood and so they all just finished their glasses before returning to the Lilith.

*

Sleep did not come easily to Crowley this night. Too many thoughts rushed through his head. Barely he resisted the urge to wake Agnes and talk to her about the news.

Pirate Rock. This was it. Crowley felt it. And it made him nervous. He was closer to defeating the shadows of his past than ever. This awoke the fear that things would go wrong at the last second.

Crowley lay down and tried to relax. But as soon as his thoughts wandered away from his treasure hunt, they were filled with Aziraphale. How those beautiful eyes had looked at Crowley through the haze of the alcohol. How Crowley had longed to taste the whiskey on Aziraphale’s plump lips. How Crowley had wanted to cup the blushing cheeks.

“Damn,” he growled into his pillow.

Too late. His mind was already set on Aziraphale and his cock was twitching in agreement. And so he did what he had done way too often in the last weeks: Close his eyes, grab his cock and think of things he could do to his cute little cook.

Crowley pictured Aziraphale and himself falling behind the group on their way back from the tavern. He imagined their comrades’ laughter and singing becoming faint, echoing through the streets further and further away. 

_When he was sure they were alone, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale and pulled him into a small alley._

_“Crowley, what…?” Aziraphale wanted to ask, but Crowley cut him off._

_“Shut up,” he hissed before pulling Aziraphale into a rough kiss._

_Aziraphale moaned against Crowley’s lips and allowed the pirate to grab and pull his hair._

_“On your knees, angel,” Crowley whispered when they broke the kiss._

_At once, Aziraphale obeyed, sinking downwards to the dirty ground. With large green-blue eyes he looked up at Crowley, full of adoration and trust._

_The sight had Crowley free his cock as fast as possible. Sensually he let the tip slide over Aziraphale’s lips, slowly marking them with the first drops of his desire._

_Aziraphale whimpered but waited patiently for the next order._

_“Let me in, angel,” Crowley demanded._

_Immediately the pretty pink lips parted and Crowley slid in. Holding Aziraphale’s blond curls in a harsh grip, Crowley began fucking Aziraphale’s mouth. From the beginning he set a punishing pace as if to discipline Aziraphale for being so tempting._

_Aziraphale just took it. His eyes fluttered shut at some point and he relaxed his throat, allowing Crowley to go as fast and deep as he wished._

Once more it was over fast. The mere thought of sweet innocent Aziraphale submitting, accepting to be used for Crowley’s pleasure, was so powerful that Crowley even lost control over his knot as he climaxed.

“Shit!” he cursed as the knot tried to connect with nothing. That would take a while to deflate. 

Crowley groaned. He really needed to keep his hands off Aziraphale. The poor thing would not be able to take what Crowley’s body wanted to give to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter numbers went up because I had to split chapter 6 in two since it became very very long. Sorry, about that, but those who knew me probably expected it.

Almost like a titan’s hand the five large rocks rose out of the quiet waters. Like a claw of stone it appeared to hold the island up. As if Pirate Rock would sink if it ever lost its favour.

Aziraphale pushed the thought aside. After all, Crowley had asked him to come along to explore the island. It would not do to ponder the likelyhood of it disappearing into the sea. So instead of staring at the rock formation in the distance, Aziraphale decided to watch the argument on deck.

It had begun a while ago. Surrounded by an amused crew, Crowley and Beez were caught up in a staring and shouting match. Crowley towered over Beez with a strict mien, she looked up at him, unimpressed and with a defiant expression. Authority against rebellious spirit.

“Crowley! I will not sit on the ship, sunbathing, while you get yourself killed on Monster Island!”

“I’m not planning on getting killed!”

“I’m sure neither did Uriel’s friends!”

“We are prepared. Unlike them we know what to expect!”

“This is why you should take me with you!” Beez said. “I’m your first mate! It is my job to fight by your side!”

“No!” Crowley yelled. “It’s your job to keep this ship safe and these men alive when I’m dead!”

The direct words silenced her. Crowley’s face softened at her shocked expression. He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled.

“Look, you’re right,” he said. “I admit it. It _is_ dangerous and while I don’t plan on dying, it can happen. It can always happen. And you are my first mate because I trust nobody else to get my crew and my ship to safety when I have to go.” He paused and his gaze intensified. “Can you do that for me? Can you keep my ship safe while I’m gone and bring her home in case I don’t come back?”

For a second or two Beez remained quiet. Then she nodded slowly.

“Aye, Captain,” she said. “I can do that.”

Crowley smiled at her.

“Thank you,” he said.

She just grunted and mumbled something unintelligible. Then she left.

Smiling Aziraphale looked after her when he walked up to Crowley.

“Your ship is in the expertise hands of a very grumpy woman,” he teased.

Ridiculous pride bubbled up in his chest when this made Crowley laugh. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat when the handsome pirate threw his head back, his long red hair flying, his perfect teeth showing.

“Better than an incompetent optimist, right?” he grinned. But then he became serious. “She is right though, angel. We may be better prepared than Uriel and her friends were, but still it’s a risk. Your participation here is absolutely voluntary! If you don’t feel safe…”

“I feel perfectly safe with you!” Aziraphale interrupted faster than his mind could stop his mouth. “Well, with you, Hastur, Ligur and Anathema.”

Crowley smiled gratefully.

“Good to hear”, he said. “It _is_ easier to have you with us in case we stumble upon something only you can make sense of.”

“I’m happy to be of use,” Aziraphale said, swallowing the “for you” at the last moment.

“You always are, angel,” Crowley said with a charming smile. “We’ll better get ready now.”

Then he went to check on the jollyboat. Aziraphale stayed behind, all too aware how utterly besotted he stared after Crowley.

*

The sea around the island was opaque but calm. Had he not heard Uriel’s story, Crowley would probably be less nervous about this. But he had and so all about the peaceful waters the jollyboat slid over screamed “Trap!” at him.

In Hastur’s and Ligur’s faces Crowley saw that they felt similar. Adam and Eric on the other hand stared wide eyed and excited at the impressive rock formations, protected from gloomy thoughts by the optimism of youth.

It was hard to read Aziraphale and Anathema. But the two were so deep in conversation about Andurian History that they probably had no time to overthink the quiet surroundings.

Crowley ignored the possessive rage bubbling up at their proximity. So far Aziraphale had not shown interest in women, but then again, Crowley was the only _man_ who had come close to him. So who knew where Aziraphale’s interests lay? And Anathema was a pretty little thing.

Adam’s voice interrupted Crowley’s jealous pondering.

“Captain,” the boy said, pointing at a spot near the island’s south beach. “I suggest we land there. The rocks protect the location from the East and West, the sea from the south. Leaves only one point of entry.”

“Good thinking, Adam,” Crowley commended. “We’ll do that.”

With a proud grin, Adam nodded and steered the boat towards the beach. When they arrived, everybody got off board and looked around the beach.

It was a beautiful place. The dark rocks, dampened by sea spray, shone like onyx in the morning sun. Between the black stone the white sand of the beach stretched out to the green trees in the North.

“Nice,” Adam said.

“Don’t let it lull you in, boy,” Crowley said. “We already know the place is dangerous. You and Eric stay here. Always be close enough to the boat so we can take off quickly should the need arise.”

“Aye, Captain,” the two young men answered in unison.

“The rest, grab your stuff and follow me,” Crowley ordered. “Anathema, Aziraphale, you two stay close to me. Hastur, Ligur, stay a step or two behind us and watch our backs.”

“Always, Captain.”

“Good,” Crowley smiled. “Let’s go.”

It did not take them long to find the old camp site of the pirates, but as Uriel had told them, there was nothing of value left. There was no gold or other treasure and time had been unkind to any tools and commodities the inhabitants had possessed.

But Crowley had expected that. His goal was clear. If there were any traces of the Andurians and therefor a chance to find the scale, it lay to the North.

Soon they entered the woods Uriel had warned them about. Crowley kept her story in his mind lest the beauty of the area deceive him. All around birds were singing and mild wind rushed through the leaves. Soft green moss covered the ground and the occasional rock formations between the trees. The sun streaming through the evergreen vegetation made the forest look too bright and friendly for concern to take over.

Still, Crowley made sure they passed the woods fast.

They had just left the tree line behind when Anathema halted. Crowley turned to her.

“What is it?”

With narrowed eyes Anathema studied a vine covered hillock to the west. She tilted her head and hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you see that?” she asked.

Crowley was about to say no when Aziraphale answered “Yes”, making Crowley realize that Anathema had been talking to him.

“What?” Ligur asked.

“The plants and trees around here are less… verdant than in the forest,” Aziraphale said.

“So?”

“While there can be a lot of explanations,” Anathema said while she approached the overgrown rock wall and reached for the vines, “here I have a main suspect… aha,” she pulled aside a couple of the creeper’s branches, revealing a cave entrance in the side of the hillock.

“Brilliant, dear!” Aziraphale praised her before turning to the others. “Caves in the woods are often home to a fungus called ‘cavern lurker’. It is known to rob the soil of nutrients in a large radius thus often causing nearby plants to be less nourished.”

Not liking one bit how admiringly Aziraphale looked at Anathema, Crowley pulled out Uriel’s map. In the direction the entrance lay only rocks were charted and there was no way of telling where it would lead.

But only Anathema’s deep knowledge of plants had unveiled the entrance. So it was possible that whatever was in there had not yet been discovered by other visitors.

“Alright,” Crowley said while he pulled a torch out of his backpack.

He held the light into the cave and saw a narrow passage way leading deep into the stone.

“I’ll go first, Aziraphale you take the torch and stay close to me, Anathema stick to Ligur, Hastur is the rear guard.”

“Guarding your rears I will,” Hastur grinned.

At first it seemed to be an empty cave, l but after the passage turned, it opened up into a naturally formed chamber with several tunnels leading further in. Light fell through crevices in the stone ceiling, illuminating the place.

The group spotted remains of fabric, maybe from clothing or sleeping bags, as well as broken stools.

“Maybe some pirates fled here when the soldiers attacked,” Aziraphale said and hopefully added, “As pirates they must have known how to build rafts with the wood from the forest trees, right? If they waited until the Royal Navy was gone and had enough supplies, maybe they survived.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Hastur said, staring into one of the tunnels.

“Why not?”

“They would have taken _that_ with them.”

Everybody gathered around Hastur to see what he was seeing. Their eyes widened. Not far into the tunnel lay another, smaller, chamber. In the centre on a flat rock, in a broad stream of light, falling through an opening, lay a golden sceptre. In the artful setting at the top a milky gemstone reflected the sunshine and spread through the cavern.

“That’s worth a fortune,” Crowley said. “Material value alone, not even to speak of the additional coins a collector or a museum might pay. A pirate wouldn’t leave something like this behind.”

“As a pirate, I agree.” With a grin Hastur grabbed the sceptre.

They searched the rest of the cave, but there was nothing left what could have been sold or give any clues about Andurian traces on the island. So Crowley ordered to leave and search for the statues Uriel had spoken of.

Marching further North, the clearing was not hard to find. They felt safer now and only loosely held their initial formation. Hastur walked backwards in front of the group, put on a stern face and wielded the sceptre around.

“Fear me!” he exclaimed. “I’m a powerful magician!”

“No, you’re a moron.” Ligur grumbled. “Now put that away before you damage it and cut its worth in half.”

“You’re no fun,” Hastur grinned, but obediently let the sceptre glide into his black linen bag.

Crowley sighed and shook his head. Then he turned his attention towards the statues. They were 9 or 10 feet high, made of light sandstone and very abstract in bodies and faces. Nevertheless they were impressive. Not only due to their size but also to their mostly good condition after so many years.

The group went to the closest figure and began examining it. At the socket Crowley saw an inscription. But before he could have a closer look, a hostile bark sounded from behind.

He spun around. The others did the same. They all stumbled a step back in shock when their eyes fell on the edge of the forest.

Slowly, but steadily, a dozen dark creatures stepped out between the trees. The large black wolf-like animals came closer, teeth bared, orange eyes glowing, deep growls accompanying their movements. One by one they left the woods, walking over the clearing towards the group.

Instinctively, Crowley pushed Aziraphale behind him while Hastur and Ligur closed ranks in front of Anathema.

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale whispered. “They aren’t supposed to come out before nightfall.”

“Well, angel,” Crowley said. “They don’t look like they want to discuss that.”

With a metallic whir, three sabres were drawn. The sunlight was dancing on the sharp blades as the Alphas marched towards the large black wolves.

The wolves were too many of course. Crowley remembered how Uriel had told them that one of them had been hard to kill. These were at least twelve, meaning four for each of them. Hastur and Ligur were great fighters and Crowley considered himself one, too. But the best they could hope for was giving Anathema and Aziraphale time to run.

*

From a safe distance Aziraphale and Anathema watched the three Alphas trying to fend off the monsters. Crowley, Hastur and Ligur fought skilfully and bravely, but they were losing.

Ligur had managed to hit one wolf, but another took the chance to dig its claws into the pirate’s leg. With a yell of pain and anger Ligur swung around and parried the following attack. But blood seeped through the fabric of his torn trousers and his stand was weakened.

One large wolf jumped towards Hastur. He managed to bring his weapon between himself and the animal. However, the mere force of the heavy creature colliding with his blade, threw him back. A scream escaped him and Aziraphale saw him switch his sabre to his left arm, his sword arm apparently hurting.

While Hastur and Ligur were in desperate straits, Crowley so far had evaded any attacks and even brought one wolf down. But he was visibly tiring and it was only a matter of time until the wolves would win through sheer numbers.

Aziraphale was mesmerized by Crowley; his elegant movements, the strong blows he delivered while the sunlight caught in his flaming hair…No! Not the time.

Frantically Aziraphale looked around. He was hoping to find anything he could use as a weapon. One of the statues had lost its arm to time, but it was too heavy for him to lift. Closer to the forest lay some fallen branches, but he had to get past the wolves to reach them.

Maybe Hastur or Ligur had taken spare weapons with them? Aziraphale rushed to the backpacks the pirates had dropped before the fight. Ligur’s did not provide any weapons, but while Aziraphale was rummaging through it, he saw something glinting in the corner of his eye.

His gaze fell on Hastur’s linen bag. Through the black fabric Aziraphale saw a strange reddish glow. Curious, he looked into the sack and found that the formerly milky white gemstone at the top of the golden sceptre shone in an orange light.

Aziraphale grabbed the strange staff and pulled it out of the bag. Maybe he would be able to support the Alphas in the fight with it.

But as soon as he threw the bag to the ground, the creatures attacking them simultaneously made a whining sound. They all fell sideways to the ground and began to squirm. Then, before the eyes of the confused pirates, they disappeared into thin air.

“What the Hell?” Crowley exclaimed. “What was that?”

Surprised himself, Aziraphale waved with the sceptre and said, “This, I think.”

After Aziraphale and Anathema had taken care of the Alphas’ wounds, Hastur grabbed the sceptre and wanted to put it away again.

“Don’t!” Aziraphale called out.

“Alright, alright!” Hastur said. “What’s wrong?”

“I did not mean to yell at you,” Aziraphale said sheepishly. “But I think it would be better for all of us if the sceptre stayed in the open.”

“Why?” Crowley asked.

“I think it is a ‘Nightwatcher,” Aziraphale said. “I read about those once. It is a magic security measure rich Andurians used. As long as sunlight falls on the crystal, the magic is dormant. But in the night, when there is no light, it awakens, doing whatever it is supposed to do. In this case apparently calling a bunch of demonic wolves to guard the island.”

“Ah, so when it was in the bag, it thought it was night time?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, probably,” Aziraphale said. “The only thing I do not understand is how the pirates lived here without being troubled by them.”

“Magic doesn’t work forever,” Anathema chimed in. “A powerful wizard may give enough power to a magical item for a few decades, a witch – if she draws energy from surrounding nature – even longer, but nobody can create an item which is active forever. But, even if it runs out of power, it can be recharged.”

“But who recharged it?” Crowley asked. “Nobody was here. We’re probably the first to have seen it since the attack.”

“Sometimes it does not have to be a human magic wielder to do it,” Anathema explained. “A large surge of dark energy can have the same effect.”

“Like a surge of fear and rage due to a nearby slaughtering?” Aziraphale asked cynically.

“Yes, like that,” Anathema sighed.

“How do we… for a lack of a better word… disarm it?” Crowley wanted to know. “As soon as night falls it will be active again, right?”

“Agnes may know how to do it,” Anathema said. “I’m sorry, but it this far beyond my skills.”

“Hardly something you have to apologize for,” Crowley said. “Anyway, we have some daytime left anyway. We’ll look for those statues and return to the ship before nightfall. Agnes can look at the sceptre then.”

They allowed themselves a few more minutes of rest before returning to the sandstone figures. Aziraphale studied them all with interest and read the inscriptions.

“Can you translate it?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes,” he said and pointed at the most north statue. “This one says ‘three, I turn my back to the sinking sun, facing my brothers’ and this,” he squatted down near the next, “’five, I never see the sun but I see one of my brothers.’”

“One part I get,” Hastur said. “We turn them so that their position to the sun and the other statues matches what it says. But what’s with them numbers?”

“Maybe the order in which they have to be turned?” Ligur suggested.

“Could be,” Aziraphale said. “But since there is no way to know what their original position should be, that might be a problem.”

“It is too easy, isn’t it?” Anathema said. “A simple riddle to guard a man’s treasure?”

“We have to try,” Crowley said. “We’ve come too long a way not to.”

Everybody nodded. With the three Alphas’ combined efforts they managed to push the stone statues into their right positions. But nothing happened.

So they turned all the figures’ faces southward and tried again, then they turned them all to the North and tried again. They used every cardinal point as a starting position. To no avail.

Frustrated, they took a break and sat down in the shadows of the nearby trees. While his comrades rested a bit, Aziraphale took the chance to drink a swig from his heat suppressing tea.

He flinched. Cold, the liquid was as effective as it was warm, but also very disgusting. Still, needs must. Going into heat was always inconvenient, but right now it would be outright catastrophic.

Afterwards, he tried to relax as well. But he could not take his mind of the statues. He grabbed a stick and absentmindedly started to a sketch out the stone figures’ positions into the ground. Maybe the mechanism had suffered over time and the statues were no longer correctly aligned with the cardinal points? Could they adjust this?

His eyes widened. Staring at the circles he had drawn into the sand, the pattern started to look familiar. Under the surprised gazes of the others, Aziraphale rushed back to the statues and memorized the numbers.

Back at his drawing he took the stick again and connected the dots in the right order.

“Now look at that,” he said proudly.

“What is it?”

The others got up from their spots and looked over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“This is the negation symbol!” Anathema exclaimed.

“It is,” Aziraphale said.

“Brilliant.” Anathema squeezed his arm.

Almost simultaneously Hastur, Ligur und Crowley cleared their throats.

“Care to share?” Crowley asked with a fond smile.

“This is a symbol used in alchemy and medicine to signal an antidote, remedies or even counter magic,” Anathema explained. “You use the symbol of negation and the sign for whatever it cures.”

“Alright… but…” Hastur said.

“Like a lot of alchemistic symbols it is based on Andurith,” Aziraphale said. “They used it as a symbol like we do, but it was also a part of their active language. It’s pronounced ‘aan’ and can work like our prefix ‘un’ or like the word ‘not’.”

“Can?”

“Yes,” Anathema said, full of excitement, as she and Aziraphale beamed at each other. “It also means ‘opposite’.”

Crowley’s face lit up.

“Alright, you heard the smart ones,” he told Hastur and Ligur. “Let’s do the opposite of what the inscriptions say.”

Groaning, Hastur and Ligur followed Crowley back to the clearing’s centre and the three of them began turning the statues again, this time following the reversal of each instruction.

And this time, when they brought the last statue into the intended position, something happened.

At first there was only a faint mechanical clicking. But the sound grew louder with every passing moment. Then suddenly the ground shook and the clacking noise turned into a thunderous rumble underneath the Alphas’ feet.

“Quick, come here!” Aziraphale called out, fearing for their safety, and gestured for them to join himself and Anathema at the edge of the clearing.

Crowley, Hastur and Ligur followed his advice. In awe they watched the shaking earth between the two middle statues break open. The moss, covering the ground, was ripped apart, plants and soil fell through the crack.

Before he knew what he was doing, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand. Despite the scary situation, his breath hitched at the answering light squeeze.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over. The shaking stopped, the noises ceased and the statues stood unchanged. There was only one difference and that was a round hole in the middle of the clearing, right between two of the figures.

The crew members looked at each other. At first they exchanged confused glances, but finally all their eyes landed on Crowley. Crowley let go off Aziraphale’s hand, signalled them to wait here and approached the opening.

Aziraphale nervously bit his lip as he watched Crowley. He knew it was crazy, but he could not shake the image of a horrible monster suddenly appearing to drag Crowley into the ground.

But nothing of the like happened. Crowley squatted down and looked into the depth – without anything attacking him. After a few seconds, he got back up and turned to his comrades.

“It’s a stairwell,” he called.

Curious, the group joined their captain and found he was right. Between the statues, steps made of white marble led into the ground.

“Impressive,” Anathema said. “I had heard that in the Andurian Empire had some extremely skilled mechanics, but this…”

Aziraphale was excited.

“We might be the first people to see this after the rightful owner,” he whispered in reverence. “Do you have any idea how meaningful this is?”

“Let’s hope it’s also profitable,” Hastur said. “Maybe the ‘rightful owner’ left his gold behind.”

“Only one way to find out,” Aziraphale said and wanted to step on the stairs.

Tnree strong hands grabbed him. When he turned around he found Crowley, Hastur and Ligur giving him stern looks.

“I’ll go first,” Crowley said and when Aziraphale sulked, he added, “You can take the torch again and go second.”

“Fine,” Aziraphale said with a pout.

Together they descended into the darkness. At the foot of the stairwell a sturdy door with Andurian design waited for them.

Crowley sighed, “There is a lock, but it looks complicated. Ligur?”

“I’ll do my best,” Ligur answered, pulled out a set of picklocks and squatted down in front of the door.

While Ligur worked, Aziraphale let his eyes wander over the many symbols surrounding the entrance door.

“I think this is a safe room,” he concluded from what he could read. “This would explain the extreme ways to keep people away from the clearing. Whoever built it, wanted to keep intruders away from his treasures and – more importantly – from himself.”

“Well, this here door failed him,” Ligur said with a proud grin as the lock clicked open.

“Still we should be careful in there,” Aziraphale said.

But Crowley stared into the dark hallway behind the door as if hypnotized.

“This is it,” he whispered with glinting eyes. “I’m sure. It’s in here.”

Without further ado, Crowley stepped through the door. An unpleasant humming noise sounded and suddenly the floor was illuminated by bright blue crystals shining along the walls. Before Aziraphale could think about it, he yelled “Careful!” and tackled Crowley to the ground.

They both landed with an “oof” beyond the threshold - not one moment too soon. The marble ground at the door step opened up and five iron bars shot up with a dangerous metallic singing. They attached firmly with the upper side of the sill, effectively blocking the path.

“Phew,” Crowley said. “Thanks, angel! I…”

A scrapping in the nearby wall interrupted him. With wide eyes, Aziraphale and Crowley watched as the stone opened up. Apparently the bars were only one part of the trap.

Aziraphale swallowed. What further security measures had the owner of the place taken? What lay in the darkness behind this moving wall?


	7. Chapter 7

This could not be happening. Not only had Crowley like a dumb beginner stumbled into a trap. He had also endangered Aziraphale who, quick and brave, had saved Crowley from being impaled by iron bars.

But the danger was not over. Whatever mechanism Crowley had triggered, was also just now opening a secret passage. And who knew what kind of surprise waited in there.

Crowley sat up, making sure that he was between Aziraphale and whatever would come. In the corner of his eyes he saw Ligur push Anathema aside so he could get closer to the bars. Curses in Hastur’s voice sounded and someone – probably Anathema – frantically rummaged through a bag.

With a deafening sound the large door snapped into place, leaving the dark tunnel open, like a monster’s maw.

Feeling Aziraphale’s nails digging into his arm, Crowley instinctively grabbed the soft hand. Everybody waited in anticipation and – nothing.

A few seconds passed. And a few more. Aziraphale’s hand held on to Crowley’s but relaxed. When Crowley turned to the entrance, he saw Ligur, holding a throwing knife but slowly letting it sink.

Frowning, Crowley let go off Aziraphale and stood. He took the torch Aziraphale had dropped while tackling him. Then, with careful steps, Crowley approached the opening in the wall. He lit the torch and stared into a tunnel, only a few feet long, leading into a larger room. His light did not properly reach it and he could not tell what was in there.

“Only one way to find out,” he murmured to himself and stepped into the narrow passage.

*

Aziraphale watched Crowley enter the tunnel. Nervously he bit his lips and wrung his hands as the pirate disappeared into the darkness. Straining his ears, he focused on Crowley's slow steps that echoed through the narrow hallway. Until they did not.

“He will call you if he needs you,” Hastur said, reading Aziraphale’s thoughts. “It will not help if you blindly stumble after him.”

Nodding, Aziraphale pressed himself against the wall. The ground must have changed underneath Crowley’s feet. That was why he could no longer hear him. Nothing had happened to him.

Nevertheless, Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief when he heard Crowley’s steps again, hurrying back to him.

A moment later, Crowley reappeared, a distressed expression on his face. He let himself fall against the opposite wall and groaned.

“Dear?” Aziraphale stood and approached him. “What happened? What is in there?”

“Erm… dogs,” Crowley said. “Long dead dogs. Luckily even long enough to no longer stink. Still a bit depressing.”

Aziraphale nodded. The owner of this place must have connected the secret tunnel to his dog kennel. Then after whatever happened to the Andurians the poor animals died of hunger and thirst.

“Just so he could have a sophisticated, impressively complicated trap, these loyal animals suffered a horrible death,” Crowley said with a disgusted face. “I hate rich people.”

Aziraphale did not know how to answer and neither did the others. So for a while nobody spoke.

“Are you guys hurt?” Hastur broke the stillness first.

“Only hurt pride on my side,” Crowley chuckled dryly. “Angel?”

“Just a bit shaken,” Aziraphale said.

So close to Crowley he could almost forget the unfortunate situation. Almost - as Anathema reminded him.

“Damn,” she said and pointed at a glowing rune on the ground. “This was not a purely mechanical trap. There is magic involved.”

“Can you reverse it?” Crowley asked. “Especially reset those bars?”

“I… I think I can,” she said. “But it will take time.”

She cast a nervous glance at the late afternoon sky.

“Alright.” Crowley pinched his nose and sighed. “You three return to the ship. Tell the others what is going on. Anathema talk to Agnes about the sceptre. Come back after dawn tomorrow to sort this out.”

“What about you two?” Anathema asked, deeply concerned. “You’d have to spend the night on the island Uriel warned us not to be on at night.

Crowley shrugged.

“This is a safe house, right?” he said. “The ‘guards’ _in_ here are dead. And from outside nothing can come in. Aziraphale and I have our supplies and a safe shelter. We’ll be fine. Right, angel?”

“I agree,” Aziraphale said and pointed at the runes. “See?”

That was aimed at Anathema and she studied the signs around the door frames.

“Yes,” she said. “That should keep demonic entities out.”

Still, she did not look happy and neither did Hastur and Ligur.

“Guys,” Crowley said. “You won’t get us out of here before nightfall. And _you_ are exposed out there. Return to the ship.”

“Beez will have our heads for leaving you here,” Hastur said and Ligur nodded.

Now Crowley put on a stern face and said firmly, “Not if you tell her that it was an order. And it is!”

“Aye, Captain,” Hastur and Ligur sighed.

“Fine,” Anathema said.

Oh, this display of authority! Aziraphale felt his face heat up when he watched Crowley giving orders. With an unconscious move, he stepped closer to Crowley, enjoying the masculine scent and the body heat.

Oh no. This was not good. While Crowley was giving Hastur some last minute instructions, Aziraphale sat down next to his bag and drank more suppressant. Being close to Crowley was always challenging, but while in heat – even if suppressed – it was a whole different thing.

“You alright there, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked with a frown.

“Yes, just… erm… needed to drink some water,” Aziraphale lied while -as inconspicuous as possible – putting the tea back into the bag. “I was so excited about the statues and all that – I barely thought about anything else.”

A fond smile on his face, Crowley offered his hand and helped Aziraphale to his feet.

“Let’s go find some treasures and a cosy place for the night,” he said.

“Al…alright,” Aziraphale stuttered.

*

They followed the main hallway. Crowley was eager to let the tunnel with the dead dogs behind him.

Arriving at another door at the end of the corridor, Crowley squatted down and studied the lock. He was no stranger to mechanical locks or traps. After all, his life as a criminal had begun onshore. So while Ligur usually was his go-to man for picking locks and disarming traps, Crowley had some skills in this fields as well.

He was in fact able to open the sturdy door. As soon as he and Aziraphale stepped through, a low humming sounded and several crystals on the wall illuminated the marble walls in a blue light. Crowley let out a sharp whistle as he entered the main chamber of the underground safe room. It was large and square with an alcove in the north wall, separated by a black satin curtain – probably meant for a bed that had never arrived. A medium sized chest stood right next to it, secured with an iron chain.

Right of the entrance the wall was lined with large shelves, holding valuable looking books and expensive decorative items made of gold and adorned with gems. To the left another door was visible, made of the same stone as the walls and with no visible lock.

Having learnt his lesson, Crowley signalled Aziraphale to wait while he searched the room.

“I see no common traps,” he told Aziraphale after a while. “Do you see anything that looks like a magical one?”

Brows furrowed in concentration, Aziraphale let his eyes wander over the surrounding walls. Finally he shook his head.

“I don’t believe so,” he said. “I could imagine that inside his sanctuary the owner preferred not to have too many traps he himself could accidentally trigger.”

“Hmm, yes, I wouldn’t either,” Crowley smiled. “But if you see anything, let me know.”

“Of course, dear.”

Crowley closed the entrance door and was relieved to find a latch to secure it.

Feeling safer now, he began browsing the shelves. But while the items in them would make him and his crew a lot of money, nothing looked like a scale. So he went to pick the lock of the chest.

“Ligur would be proud of me,” he joked as the familiar click sounded. But his good mood faded because the trunk contained nothing but a bunch of fine dresses – valuable but not what he was looking for.

Frustrated, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. Meanwhile, he had crossed the room and was trying to open the second door. Unfortunately, he did not have any luck.

“Doesn’t budge,” Aziraphale said. “And there is no real lock, just a star-shaped notch.”

Crowley groaned. Andurians and their toys really made it hard to like them. With a few quick steps Crowley joined Aziraphale and studied the door as well.

“Hmm, not even Ligur could trick the mechanism, I think,” he said. “Damn!”

Muttering further curses under his breath, he banged his fist against the door.

“Please calm down,” Aziraphale begged. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I can’t calm down,” Crowley hissed. “I’m so close and now…”

“Maybe tomorrow when the others come, Anathema has an idea. Maybe Agnes can open it,” Aziraphale said. “Or maybe if we get the crew here, we can force…”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” Crowley yelled at him. “I did not take all that on me for a bunch of maybes!”

As Aziraphale flinched, Crowley turned away, feeling guilty.

“Let’s… let’s just rest for a while,” he sighed. “You can unroll our sleeping mats in the alcove.”

Nodding, Aziraphale did what he was told while Crowley began filling the linen bags he had brought with the treasures. The more fragile pieces he wrapped in an extra cloth before putting them to the others.

When he was done, he joined Aziraphale in the make shift lair.

*

With a sheepish expression Crowley sat down beside Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry for being so aggressive,” Crowley said. “You were nothing but helpful. I have no right to take my frustration out on you.”

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale smiled. “I know you didn’t mean to be so harsh. But may I ask,” he hesitated and bit his lip, scared to overstep, “why does this mean so much to you? I mean, the treasures we found here are worth the effort tenfold – magic scale among them or not.”

The initial silence seemed to confirm Aziraphale’s fear, but finally Crowley spoke.

“I’m… a bastard,” he said and laughed, “I know, I know, most of my crew would agree, but I mean, literally.”

“As in ‘born out of wedlock’?”

Crowley nodded.

“My father was a noble man, an Alpha, my mother a servant in his household,” Crowley said. “She was a Beta, but that did not stop him from beginning an affair with her, promising romance and eternal love. When she became pregnant, he swore he would take care of her. A week later he married an Omega. When confronted, he made excuses. Of course he had to marry an Omega! He was an Alpha of noble blood. What would people think if he married not only commoner but a Beta? ‘Generously’ he offered her that she could stay as his lover. She said she would if he would acknowledge her child as his. He refused and discharged her. She was lucky enough to find another position despite her pregnancy. But you know what? A week after I was born, my father’s wife gave birth as well. He had been having an affair with that Omega long before marrying her, while he was still with my mother.”

While he was talking, Crowley was clenching his fists so hard, that his knuckles turned white. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hands to calm him down.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” he said. “The noble families have way too much power and way too many opportunities to use it to mess with people’s lives.”

“Indeed.” Crowley nodded.

“But… I’m sorry, maybe I’m dense… what does it have to do with the scale? Do you want to force your father to tell the truth?”

“See? You’re not dense at all,” Crowley said with a disarming, mischievous smirk. “Not my father though. He is dead. My half-brother however, is very much alive and a prick. I sought him out a couple of years ago, you know? With no ill intend. Admittedly, I broke into his office. But I immediately assured him that I just wanted to talk, to get to know him. He asked why I would want that. I told him my name and was about to tell my story… when he started to laugh. He said ‘Oh, that is you! I know who you are. My father warned me that this day might come. But you have no proof at all! You and the whore that is your mother will get nothing.’”

“Oh, Crowley…”

“He knew, angel!” Crowley said. “He knew all the time. So if I can force him to tell the truth, there is still a chance to get justice for me and my mother. Even if it is too late for her.”

Silence fell. Crowley had finished his story and Aziraphale did not know what to say that was not tactless. But after a while, his curiosity won.

“Crowley?”

“Hm?”

“How did you plan on using the scale on your brother?” Aziraphale asked. “You can hardly walk up to him, press it into his hands and ask compromising questions.”

Crowley’s cheeks reddened a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Um, well, you see… It’s sort of a two part plan and part two isn’t quite done,” he said.

“Not quite done?”

“Doesn’t exist,” Crowley admitted. “But I like your idea about pressing it in his hands and asking.” The boyish smile fell and Crowley groaned, “Gods, you must think I’m an idiot. Me and my half-arsed plans.”

Aziraphale squeezed the hands he was still holding and smiled.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not an idiot. I really understand your wish to set this right. I’m sure we can find a way.”

Sighing, Crowley shook his head.

“I’m not so sure,” he admitted. “I’m not even capable of getting this scale. Even though it is most likely only a few feet away from me.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. He wished so badly to help Crowley. But how?

His eyes fell on the chest again, now open and fancy dresses piling up next to it. He studied the construction of the container, its design and the chain which had secured it.

“All that for a bunch of nice outfits?” he said, more to himself, but still Crowley answered.

“I know,” Crowley said. “But I emptied it completely and checked for a false bottom under the dresses.”

A thought rushed through Aziraphale’s mind. Excited, he turned to Crowley, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yes, but did you check the dresses?”

“What?” Crowley asked in confusion.

Ignoring him, Aziraphale just jumped up. He rushed through the room and knelt beside the pile of cloth next to the chest. One by one he let the pieces glide through his fingers, examining them all closely.

When he came to a night-blue gown, he was rewarded. At the neckline, humble compared to the elaborate embroidery and the sewed in gemstones, was a simple silver brooch attached to the fabric. It had the shape of a star.

“Hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly before carefully removing it from the dress.

With a proud grin he held it up.

Crowley’s eyes widened. Quickly, he jumped to his feet. His gaze did not leave the piece of jewellery while he walked over. He squatted down next to Aziraphale and Aziraphale handed him the brooch.

Together they walked over to the locked door. Wasting no more time, Crowley put the silver star into the notch. As expected, it fit perfectly and a satisfying clacking noise sounded when it sank in. Crowley turned it and soon after a low rumble announced the opening of the door.

Stone scraping over stone, it slid aside, revealing a surprisingly small chamber. Only a few items were in here, all placed on elegant pedestals. A sigh of relief escaped Aziraphale as he spotted a simple crafted golden scale among them.

Crowley saw it, too. After rummaging through his backpack, he pulled out a black linen cloth. He carefully wrapped up the scale before putting it in his bag.

*

It was like a weight lifting from is soul. Letting the scale slide into his bag, made Crowley feel as accomplished as only few things had in the last months.

They left the small chamber. Satisfied, Crowley placed the bag near the other treasures before turning to Aziraphale with a huge grin.

“You did it!” he exclaimed. “Thank you!”

“Oh, no problem,” Aziraphale said with a dismissive gesture.

“Ha!” Crowley laughed, grabbing Aziraphale’s hands. “It really wasn’t a problem… because of you! You’re the best!”

And when Crowley saw the beautiful aquamarine eyes light up and an adorable blush spread on the round cheeks, he was done for.

He pushed Aziraphale against the wall. Before Aziraphale could react, Crowley grabbed his face and pressed a kiss on his lips. For a short moment Aziraphale went taut in the pirate’s arms, but soon he relaxed and parted his lips for Crowley.

If there had been the slightest resistance, Crowley might have had a chance to snap out of it. But with Aziraphale sinking into him so fast and so pliant, there was no way back. A possessive feeling surged through him. His tongue slipped into Aziraphale’s mouth, seeking out its counterpart. His right hand roughly grabbed the blond hair while his left wandered down Aziraphale’s side before it came to rest on the delicious arse.

Aziraphale sighed sweetly into the kiss. He pressed his soft body against Crowley’s and his arms circled around the pirate. But Crowley wanted more.

So his mouth left Aziraphale’s and began to wander. He left a path of tender pecks along Aziraphale’s jaw and neck until his lips brushed along Aziraphale’s ear shell.

“I want your hands on me, angel,” he whispered.

Confused, Aziraphale looked at his hands, lying on Crowley’s shoulders.

“But they are… oh…”Aziraphale swallowed audibly when realisation hit, but then he gave an obedient nod.

Crowley moaned as the soft hands slid down his body and found his crotch. Adorably shy, Aziraphale cupped his cock through the fabric of the trousers and gasped at the hardness he found. Crowley chuckled.

“What did you expect, Aziraphale?” he asked. “You drive me crazy. Now get it out.”

His cheeks beet red, Aziraphale went to work on Crowley’s fly. This was one of the rare occasions Crowley scolded himself for wearing such tight trousers. He lent Aziraphale a hand and they freed his erection.

Aziraphale’s fingers circled around Crowley’s cock and Crowley threw his head back, accompanied by a feral growl. With inexperienced but nonetheless thrilling movements Aziraphale began to work on Crowley’s manhood.

When Crowley’s eyes met Aziraphale’s again, he found that Aziraphale was looking at him with large, questioning eyes.

“Li… like this?” Aziraphale asked.

Such a cute little thing. So eager to please. Crowley’s lips were back to kissing Aziraphale before he could stop himself. Understanding this as the confirmation that it was, Aziraphale kept up his ministrations.

One of Crowley’s hands found the plush butt again, the other went to return the favour.

Getting in Aziraphale’s wide linen trousers was easier. Aziraphale whimpered into the kiss as Crowley took hold of his member. It was not extraordinary large, but it filled Crowley’s hand nicely, pulsating in his palm.

They were kissing wildly, fucking into each other’s hands in abandon. But for Crowley it was still not enough. He wanted to get closer, to get dirtier.

“Shoes and trousers off!” he demanded

Aziraphale nodded and kicked away his shoes. Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s waistband and pulled the trousers down. Aziraphale made a cute squeaking noise but did not object. Obediently he stepped out of the fabric pooling around his ankles.

“Good boy,” Crowley commended.

He grabbed one of Aziraphale’s legs and put it around his own waist. Their cocks brushed against each other, eliciting deep moans from both of them.

With quick strokes Crowley smeared their precum over their penises, slicking them as best as he could. Still it felt a bit rough, bordering on painful, when he started rubbing their erections against each other. Somehow however, this made it even better, filthier, rawer.

Aziraphale seemed to agree. Eyes pressed shut in concentration and teeth biting his lips, he clung to Crowley. He panted and dug his nails into Crowley’s shoulders.

“Please, Crowley, can I…?”

“Yes!”

With a sigh of relief, Aziraphale let one hand glide between them. He grabbed their cocks, spread more precum and increased the contact as well as the friction.

Crowley groaned. Rolling his hips faster against Aziraphale’s body, he pulled Aziraphale into another kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

Soon Crowley’s movements began to stutter. His peak was nearing and he felt his knot swell. But he was far past the point of no return and he could only hope Aziraphale would not care.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed out and it was the final straw.

Hot and white and blinding, an intense orgasm ripped through Crowley. On instinct he grabbed Aziraphale tighter and dug his teeth into the meat of Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale cried out, but held onto Crowley.

Through his ecstasy Crowley felt how he spilled his essence over Aziraphale. The thrilling thought of marking Aziraphale that way added to the forceful waves of orgasmic bliss. The sound Aziraphale made signalled his climax as well and soon he went limb in Crowley’s hold.

Slowly, Crowley regained his senses. When he could see clearly again, he found Aziraphale leaning against the wall, breathing just as heavily as Crowley. Aziraphale’s pretty face was flushed and his sweat damp hair clung to his forehead. His eyes were closed, but as Crowley tenderly stroke along his cheek, they opened.

“Are you alright?” Crowley said.

“Yes.” Aziraphale nodded, weak but notable.

Frowning Crowley took in the bite mark on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Instinct. No excuse of course. Should’ve controlled myself better.”

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale waved it off.

Then Crowley’s eyes fell on his swollen knot still leaking semen in powerful spurts every now and then.

“And that,” he sighed, “will take a while to deflate. Maybe you should go to sleep.”

Nodding, Aziraphale pushed himself away from the wall. Crowley watched as he pulled up his trousers and walked over to his bag. After picking it up, he disappeared into the alcove behind the curtain, most likely to clean up – while Crowley waited for his biology to calm down.

*

Good Gods! Aziraphale ripped his bag open. Like a man in the desert he downed the remains of his heat suppressant tea and rubbed more scent blocker on his skin. Only then he took care of Crowley’s semen on hisstomach, crotch and legs.

If he was completely honest, he liked having this on him. At least a part of him did. The same part that at the sight of Crowley’s knot had screamed because it was not inside him. Oh dear. He wanted Crowley inside him so badly.

No. No! Not good. He shook his head as if that would chase the thought away. Maybe he should just sleep. Yes, sleep would distract him. He was definitely tired enough now. So he lay down on the sleeping mat and pulled his blanket over his body. After closing his eyes, it did not take long for sleep to claim him.

Something was wrong. Aziraphale awoke, feeling hazy. The low hum of the light crystal reminded him of his whereabouts. Thanks to the curtain, the stone’s glow was dimmed, bathing the alcove in a pleasant half-light.

A familiar smell met his nose, mingling with a new one. Then he noticed something wet and sticky. Terrified, he understood that it was between his arse cheeks, seeping through his trousers.

Damn! His encounter with Crowley must have triggered his suppressed heat too much for his counter measures to handle. How could he have been so careless? He needed to get to his supplies and clean himself!

In panic he turned around and wanted to sit up. He gasped when he found himself face to face with Crowley.

The Alpha loomed over him, staring down with wide blown pupils, breathing heavily. With a mixture of fascination and anger in his expression, he leant down, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale swallowed as he was hit with the strong scent emanating from Crowley.

“Cr… Crowley?”

The pirate breathed in Aziraphale’s smell before facing him again. For what felt like an eternity, he just stared at Aziraphale. When Crowley finally broke the silence, his voice was deep, dark and dangerous.

“You lied to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!  
> Leave a kudo and/or share your thoughts in the comments - it makes my day! :)


End file.
